Promise Me
by Loosing Myself in Love
Summary: <html><head></head>What happens if the best way to save the people you love is to leave them? Do you do it? Melody Scott struggles with the answer to that question. For the past year, her, Sam, and Dean have hunted and killed every monster they came across. Things were simple, but not anymore. Now, everything is about to change. (Sequel to 'Rescue Me' follows Season 2)</html>
1. In My Time of Dying

****Hey, sorry this took so long to get out! I'm so excited to hear what everyone thinks of this story and my version of the season! A lot is in store for this season, so keep reading! Thank you to everyone who reads, PMs, or reviews to my story! You guys are the best! A special thanks to Ladysunshine6 for all the amazing ideas! Again, hope everyone loves the first chapter! Thanks again and please review!****

_In My Time of Dying_

_Dean pulled into the run down parking lot of the crappy, beat up motel where we'd be spending our next night. Hopefully, we'd actually get to sleep more than the usual four hours tonight. The time we slept always took a dive when we were on a hunt, especially one that was as emotionally involving as the last one. Dean had seemed to really like that kid, Lucas. It was a miracle Lucas hadn't drowned in the lake when the spirit had pulled him under. My thoughts drifted to the events that unfolded after the boy was rescued, and I desperately tried to turn my attention to anything else. Unfortunately, that seemed like an impossibility. Dean had kissed me._

_Dean and I had spent the entire car ride avoiding each other's eyes and talking to Sam to fill the uncomfortable silence. I exerted every effort in an attempt to ignore the sexual tension that seemed to radiate between Dean and I, and I couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too. If he did, he didn't let on, instead choosing to keep his eyes permanently fixed on the road in front of us. I had kissed him._

_What had I done? He didn't feel that way about me. He'd told me back in New Mexico. He'd said that he didn't anymore, so why would he kiss me? I couldn't get the image of his face after I opened my eyes on the dock. It had been the first thing I saw. His eyes had been red and puffy as if he'd been crying, and his breathing had been shaky. He'd just looked so vulnerable. In all the time I'd known him, I'd seen Dean look vulnerable, but not like that. The raw terror and overwhelming relief in his eyes, even now, made my throat close._

_"Mel," I jumped slightly at Sam softly speaking my name, and it wasn't until I turned that I realized Dean was no longer in the car. "I said I think I'm going to the vending machine Do you want anything?" I opened the car door and stood as Sam pulled away from my open window that he'd been leaning through._

_"I'll go with you," I ran a hand through my hair distractedly as we headed towards the vending machine._

_"So, you and Dean…" Sam prompted as we came to a stop in front of the machine. I didn't look at him, choosing to focus on our snack options instead._

_"I think I'll have a protein bar," I ignored his question completely as I mused aloud. "I'm haven't eaten all day, and I'll probably just crash once we get into the room,"_

_"Mel," I glanced up at Sam and quickly realized that he wasn't letting me off the hook without an answer. I put in the money, hitting the buttons for three protein bars, figuring Sam and Dean would eat whatever I gave them at this point._

_"I don't know," Was all the answer I gave as I handed him his bar, and we headed back to the car. My eyes turned to him as I heard him scoff incredulously. "What?" Before he could answer, Dean came out of the lobby with three keys in his hand. I grabbed my duffel out of the car and carried it to the room, dropping it beside one of the beds before turning to go to the bathroom. I froze when I heard Sam's next words._

_"Well, you two look like you have a lot to talk about. I'm going to go get some real food," He set his protein bar down on the table, and before I could say anything he shut the door behind him. I was alone with Dean._

_"I'm going to take a shower," Dean's cool tone stung me as much as his indifferent words. I grabbed his arm as he walked by, forcing him to look at me._

_"You kissed me," I stated, and his jaw tightened as he turned his body to face me. "Why?" A humorless laugh escaped his lips, and I fought the urge to flinch at the harshness of the sound._

_"I seem to remember you pretty eager to return the favor," My jaw fell open at his douchebag reply that was accompanied with a smirk._

_"Yeah," The surprised look vanished from my face, replaced by one of frustration and anger. "I did kiss you. At least I'm not too scared to admit it," The smirk twisted into a pissed look. I'd lived with Dean for all of my life; I knew how to snap him back when he started to act like a dick._

_"Scared?" He echoed furiously. "You think I'm scared?!"_

_"Yes! I just want you to say it," I snapped at him, somehow needing him to just say he kissed me, just admit that he did, that something might still be there._

_"I can't!" His voice rose to a yell, but I didn't back down._

_"Why not?!" I demanded, needing to know the answer._

_"Because you broke my heart!" He exploded, and I flinched back, my eyes widening. He blinked, as if just realizing what he had said, and he began to turn._

_"I never meant to hurt you-" I started softly, meaning every word._

_"Yeah? Well, you did," He cut me off, still furious, and now facing me again. "You were the one that broke it off, remember? Not me,"_

_"It's not like I wanted to!" I yelled at him, too caught up in the argument to take notice of how my face was inches from his now._

_"Well then what _do_ you want?" Dean yelled back._

_"I want you!" I snapped my mouth shut, but it was too late. The words were already out in the open, and I couldn't take them back no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn't tear my gaze from Dean's green eyes as he studied mine intently, as if searching for something that was hidden in them. In one smooth movement, he grabbed my face and slammed his lips down on mine._

The world came back to me in pieces. First, my hearing returned. Deep, even breathing by my bedside told me someone was there, probably in a chair, and there was a steady, rhythmic beeping to my left that I let slip into the background. Then, I could feel the scratchy sheets pulled over me and the stiff mattress beneath me. It was a feeling that was all too familiar. I was in a hospital.

The crash.

The memories crashed back to me like waves on rocks. Dean. Sam. John. My eyes snapped open, and I breathing quickened. The beeping sped up, and I turned to see a heart monitor. My eyes zeroed in on the figure who was asleep in the chair next to my bed with his head tilted sideways and leaning on some cabinets.

"Sam?" An overwhelming relief washed over me as the boy's eyes fluttered open to focus on me. He jackknifed to his feet, leaning over my bed and crushing me in a hug, which I gladly returned. "Are you alright? Where's Dean? And John?" The questions rushed out of me unchecked. Dean and John were okay. They had to be. But then why did Sam look so grim?

"John's fine. He's sleeping, but the doc said he should wake up soon," Whatever relief I felt in hearing the news dissipated as I took in Sam's tight features.

"And Dean?" Sam swallowed hard, and I could read the fear that was written all too clearly in his eyes.

"Mel…" He began cautiously, and my heart constricted painfully in my chest.

"He's okay," I shook my head, tears coming to my eyes. "Tell me he's okay,"

"He's alive," Sam told me instead, and I released a shaky breath. "But… it's not good,"

"What do you mean not good?" I tried to stifle the blind panic that was threatening to consume me.

"He's in a coma," Sam's voice cracked slightly, causing him to cough roughly. I felt as though my world had stopped spinning. He was alive. That was all that mattered. He would get better. He had to.

"I need to see him," I threw off the sheets to the bed, ignoring Sam's protests and pulling out the IV chords out of my arm before standing. The world swayed sickeningly, making my legs turn to jello beneath me. I would've hit the floor if it weren't for Sam's arms wrapped around my waist, holding me up and helping me back onto the bed.

"You have a mild concussion," He informed me, the ghost of a smile briefly flickering onto his face before vanishing again. My head was pounding and my ears were ringing, preventing me from focusing on what Sam was saying. "Mel?" The pounding and ringing died down, allowing me to focus again. "You have a mild concussion," I nodded to indicate I got the message, still recovering from the wave of dizziness. "You should be fine by the end of the day, but no sudden movements, and you are under an ordered bed rest,"

"I need to see him," I repeated, and Sam sighed heavily. "Sam, please," I met his eyes, mine begging him to help me. He let out another sigh, this one defeated.

-3rd Person-

Dean Winchester opened his eyes and sat up in the hospital bed, looking around the empty room suspiciously. Distantly, he could hear a man speaking, but he didn't pay attention to what was being said. He grimaced as a slight pain pricked at his spine, but he jumped to the ground anyway, realizing he wasn't wearing any shoes, only socks. He could barely focus on where he was walking as he headed out the door of his room and into the deserted hallway. All his mind could concentrate on was Mel, Sam, and his dad.

"Mel?" He called but got no reply. He just needed to see her - to make sure she was safe. "Sam?" Still nothing. If anything happened to Sammy… "Dad? Anybody?" His shouts grew louder as he reached the end of the hallway and looked both ways through the adjoining one. He opted for left, which lead him to a flight of stairs that he descended without question. He frowned at how odd it was. He'd been in hospitals before, yet never had he been in one as seemingly empty as this. He rounded the platform to the second set of steps before catching sight of the small desk that was set up there. A sign that hung above the enclosed desk read 'All Visitors must register at reception'.

"Excuse me," Dean spoke to the woman, wincing as he took the last few steps and reached the bottom. He walked to the window that looked into the reception desk. "Hi. I, uh - I think I was in a car accident with my girlfriend, my dad, and my brother. I just need to find them," He tried to ignore the worry that gnawed in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. The woman didn't even acknowledge his existence, making him frown in confusion. "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of the woman's face with no reaction.

What the hell was going on? He backed away from the desk before whirling and taking the stairs as fast as the pain in his back would allow. He retraced his steps at a run until he reached his room, and there he froze. There, in the bed, with a long tube coming out of his mouth and IVs hooked up to his arm, lay himself… or his body at least. He let out a shaky breath, leaning against the closed window. He hadn't been there five minutes when two people came slowly through the door, making Dean straighten instantly. They didn't even look at him as they stopped in the middle of the room.

"Mels," Dean spoke her name softly, his gaze traveling along her body and taking in her seemingly healthy, if not a bit tired, appearance. She was dressed in the same white shirt and faded blue pants with a beige, oversized jacket around her shoulders. It took Dean a moment to recognize the jacket as Sam's. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun that didn't quite hold all of the strands, leaving some to fall into her face, though she barely noticed. Somehow, despite the scratches that were scattered across her face and the bruise on her right forearm, he didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.

"Sammy," He tore his eyes from Mel to fix on his brother, smiling as he finally knew for certain that they were both alive and well. "You two look good… considering," He let out a chuckle, but he faltered as he realized they hadn't even glanced at him as he spoke. He moved around the bed to see their faces, and when he spoke again, his voice held a note of desperation. "Mels, tell me you can hear me," She was supposed to be the one who could hear better, right? Well, then why couldn't she hear him? Instead of responding, she pulled the jacket, which she was wearing over her hospital clothes, tighter around her as she gazed at Dean's sleeping form.

"How's Dad?" Dean tried. "Is he okay?" Mels pressed one hand, that was half covered with the sleeve of Sam's jacket, against her mouth firmly, and Dean's heart nearly broke as he saw the tears forming in her eyes. "Come on, Mels, you're supposed to be the one with the hearing," She squeezed her eyes shut tightly before opening them again, blinking harshly. "Sam? You're the psychic. Give me some ghost whispering or something,"

"You're father's awake. You can go see him if you like," Both Mel and Sam spun to see the short, dark-skinned doctor that stood in the doorway. Dean's eyes snapped to Mel as she swayed, her face growing three shades paler in the course of a few seconds.

"Hey, hey," Dean was by her side in a moment, but Sam already had his arms around her, guiding her to a chair where she sat heavily.

"What is she doing out of bed?" The doctor demanded, and Dean's eyes flicked to him and then Sam before fixing on Mel.

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded, but no one responded.

"I'm alright," Mel spoke up in a determined voice, rising slowly while holding onto Sam's shoulder.

"You need rest," The doctor instructed, but she shook her head slowly.

"What about Dean?" Instinctively, Dean moved closer to Mel to slip an arm around her waist only to stop himself. She couldn't hear him, and if she couldn't hear him she probably couldn't see him or feel him. The thought sent an ache through his heart.

"Well, he sustained serious injury - blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney, but it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema," Dean frowned as the doctor gave his diagnosis.

"Well, what can we do?" Sam questioned, and Mel looked hopefully up at the doctor.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up," Dean accepted the information, glancing back at his body. All he had to do was wake up. "_If_ he wakes up," Mel's head snapped up, and her wide eyes found the doctor.

"What do you mean if?" Dean knew that voice; she was trying to fight panic or fear… or both. The thought of her afraid and alone infuriated him, and he turned his eyes on the doctor.

"Screw you, Doc. I'm waking up," He snapped, but the doctor gave no sign he'd heard. Instead, he just calmly regarded Mels and Sammy.

"I have to be honest," He continued. "Most people with his degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard, but you both need to have realistic expectations,"

"Come on. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me. I'll be fine," His eyes were drawn to Mel's right hand as a tremor went through it; she did that when she was terrified. It was an unconscious habit of hers. He wanted so badly to comfort her. To comfort them both. If only they could just _see_ him. "Sam. Mel," They didn't respond.

"You should be in bed," The doctor fixed Mel with a pitying gaze, and she straightened, making Dean's mouth twitch up in a brief smile. She hated to be pittied.

"After I see John,"

-1st Person-

"Alright. Here," Sam and I sat at John's bedside while he handed Sam his wallet. "Give them my insurance," Sam took the card, reading the name and smiling slightly.

"Elroy McGillicuddy," I let out a breathy laugh that had no real humor in it.

"And his two loving sons," John turned his dark eyes on me. "You have yours?" I opened my mouth to reply when Sam beat me to it.

"I took care of it," He informed both of us. In all the chaos that had happened, I hadn't even thought to ask about it.

"You're sure you're alright?" John checked, studying me in concern, and I nodded confidently.

"I'll be alright. It's just a bump on the head," I brushed the damage off like it was nothing even though my head was starting to feel a bit heavy.

"What else did the doctor say about Dean?" I swallowed hard and shook my head, forcing myself to answer John's question.

"Nothing more," There was silence for a moment as he seemed to accept my words, looking troubled. "Listen, the doctors don't know what we do, right? There has to be someone we can call,"

"Right, we'll find some… hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him," A small smile flickered onto my lips at Sam's words. It was something Dean would say.

"We'll look for someone," John promised us, and we nodded. "But, Sam, Mel… I don't know if we're gonna find anyone," A cold rush of fear shot through my stomach.

"Why not?" I asked, trying to remain optimistic, for if I didn't I thought I may go insane. "Sam and Dean found that faith healer in Nebraska when I was dying,"

"That was one in a million," John told us, and I frowned at his dejected tone.

"So what? We just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?" Sam's voice grew louder as he got angry.

"Sam, calm down," I set a light hand on his shoulder. Now was not the time to start fighting.

"No, I said we'd look, all right?" John corrected his son, getting a tad frustrated. "I'll check under every stone," I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to find comfort in John's answer. "Where's the colt?" His next question made my blood boil. I snapped my eyes to him, a sharp comment ready on my lips, but it died as I saw the look in John's eyes. Fear. Fear and a strange, eerie acceptance that I didn't like.

"Your son is dying and you're worried about the colt?" Sam's calm voice held an undertone of white hot fury.

"We are hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us, too," He pointed out, and a shiver ran up my spine. "That gun may be our only card," My eyes flicked back and forth between Sam and John before I sighed.

"It's in the Impala's trunk," I told him, and Sam glanced at me in surprise, making me fix him with a look. "Where else would you have put it?" Sam hadn't told me, but it wasn't like there was many other places that he could've safely hidden it.

"They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83," Sam added, and John nodded, thinking it over for a moment before he spoke.

"All right, you have got to clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside," John ordered brusquely, adopting his drill sergeant tone.

"I already called Bobby. He's like an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place," Sam informed both of us. "All right. You go meet up with Bobby. You get that colt and bring it back to me, and you watch out for hospital security," He instructed us, and we nodded.

"We can handle it," Sam told him. I swallowing hard as a hard tug in my gut let me know something was wrong. It had been the first _feeling_ I'd gotten since I'd woken up, and the familiarity of it actually made me feel safer.

"I'm not going," At my words, Sam's eyes found mine, and his confusion cleared. I thought I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it disappeared to quickly to tell.

"Hey. Here," Sam and I turned from where we'd been about to walk through the doorway. John held out a piece of paper to Sam, who took it cautiously. "I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick them up for me,"

"Oil of Abramelin?" I read off the list, frowning. "What do you need this for?"

"Protection," John answered, his eyes meeting mine. Even if I couldn't hear the lie in his voice, I would've known it wasn't for protection. The thing was, I trusted John, and currently his eyes were ordering me not to give him away.

"Hey, Dad," Sam spoke up before I could make any move. "The demon - he said he had plans for us and children like us. You have any idea what he meant by that?"

"No, I don't," Another lie. Sam turned to me, concern flooding his eyes for a moment.

"Get some rest, Mel," I nodded mutely, knowing I most likely wouldn't. "I'm serious. You're not helping him by being exhausted," He took a step towards the door before turning back and handing me my phone. "By the way, Max called. Told me to tell you to call when you woke up,"

"Thanks," I traced Sam's footsteps with my hearing as they walked down the stairs and out the front door. I turned back to face John, shoving the phone in my pocket.

"What was that?" John just looked at me dumbly. "You were lying to him. What do you know that you aren't telling us? What do you need the stuff for?" I fired the questions at John, wincing as a dull throb went through my head.

"I'll explain everything. I promise, but for right now. It's better you don't know," I hesitated, not standing him not telling me something important. "Mel, trust me and go," I exited his room and made my way back to Dean's, ignoring the exhaustion that was seeping through my bones. I sat beside Dean's bed and gently took one of his hands from where they rested atop his stomach, playing with his fingers.

_"Okay, you see that pedal right there?" I looked down to see what Dean was referring to before moving my foot to hover over it. "You want to press it all the way and then turn the key," I complied, and the car roared to life, making me smile in excitement. "Step on the brakes," He pointed, and, again, I obliged._

_"Okay, now what?" I glanced up at him, smiling widely. He returned the smile before pointing to the shifter._

_"Usually, you want it to be in first, but this time you need it in reverse to back out," I covered the top of the shifter with my hand and manipulated it into reverse easily. "Good, now take your foot off the brake and press on the gas gently," The car gave a violent jerk backwards, making me slam down on the break again. "Gently," Dean emphasized with a small laugh._

_"I've got it. Don't worry," This time I eased out of the parking space slower. It was my first time driving, and it didn't help that Dean had only driven three times, all of them with John. Dean was three months older than me, so he turned fifteen first, which meant he'd get to learn to drive before I did. John was away and today was my birthday, so Dean was taking me._

_"Now shift gears to one," I followed his instructions, and we went all of five miles an hour down the deserted road. I pressed the gas a bit more, releasing the clutch as I did, and we sped up to twenty miles an hour. "Sure you don't want to slow down a bit there, grandma," I couldn't help glancing at Dean just long enough to stick my tongue out at him, making him laugh._

_"I'm being safe," I told him, returning my undivided attention to the road._

_"Oh, is that what you were doing? I thought you were racing the turtles," I took one hand off the wheel and hit his arm lightly._

_"Shut up," Was my reply, which only made him laugh more, and after a moment, I joined in. I went a bit faster, and in a couple minutes, I was going thirty on the road. I knew we would have to go back pretty soon, for the sun was about setting now._

_"Okay, turn here," Dean pointed up ahead. "Push the clutch," I obeyed his command without hesitation. "Now downshift into second," I glanced at him, frowning in confusion as the car slowed. He covered my hand with his and guided it into second, making my hand tremble slightly under his touch. We finished the turn, but his hand lingered over mine for a moment longer before he released the shift. "Turn here again," I did, this time on my own, and I couldn't help missing the feel of his hand over mine. "So now-" His instruction was cut off by a loud honking, and I snapped my eyes onto the road, only just realizing I'd been looking at Dean instead of focusing. My mind blanked. Dean grabbed the wheel and yanked it to the side, causing us to skid to the edge of the road and narrowly avoid the speeding car. I slammed on the break, and the car came to a jolting stop. Dean yanked the keys out of the ignition, shutting it off._

_"S-sorry," I tried to control my shaky breathing. We'd missed the other car by a hair. If we'd been hit… there was no way we would've survived that. We would've been killed. I almost killed us._

_"It's okay. We're fine," I didn't notice Dean had wrapped his arms around my still shaking form until I began to calm down. "We're alive, right? That's what matters," I rested my head against his shoulder, my breathing calming now._

_"Let's not tell John," I suggested and felt Dean laugh, his arms still around me. It felt oddly nice to be in his arms._

_"No argument here,"_

-3rd Person-

"Hey, Dean," Mels began talking softly, and Dean watched her sadly as she toyed with the ring he wore on his finger. "I remember when I gave you that," He smiled at the memory of her giving him the ring for Christmas all those years ago. She turned his hand over and lightly traced the almost invisible scar that ran between his index and middle fingers. "And I remember when you got that," Her voice gained an amused tone, and his smile widened.

"I was being an idiot," He admitted it freely now as he recalled his attempt at cooking. She'd gotten a new boyfriend while they'd been on a hunt up in Connecticut. He was an amazing chef, according to her, and he'd tried to prove to her that anyone could cook. Anyone could not cook.

"You were being an idiot," She ran her finger along the scar as she voiced his words fondly. His heart gave a painful wrench as he saw the small tear making it's way down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, letting out a small, choked laugh. "God, we're like an episode of Dr. Sexy M.D," Dean chuckled at her words and came to sit beside her on the empty chair.

"Yeah, you'd be the sexy but feisty doctor," He smiled, and she let out a soft laugh that was so well timed that he had to remind himself that she couldn't hear him.

"You know, I never told you this, but my favorite memory is when I saved you from that Wendigo in Montana," She smiled slightly despite the second small tear that travelled down her cheek. "You were a bloody mess, and I probably looked like crap too," Dean swallowed hard, wanting desperately to reach out and comfort her, but he refrained. "It was the first time you told me you loved me," He didn't care anymore; he reached out to brush her face with his hand. It was worse that he'd thought. He could touch her, feel her, but she couldn't feel him. "You promised me that you'd stay alive, and you wouldn't leave me," She took a shaky breath, looking up at his sleeping face. "So you need to wake up, okay?"

"I will, Mels. I swear I'll wake up. Everything's going to be okay," She didn't hear him.

* * *

><p>Dean Winchester looked up as his dad rolled into the room in the wheelchair the doctors had insisted on forcing him to use. Mel was asleep with her head on the bed just touching Dean's stomach, and John favored her with a small smile as he caught sight of her sleeping form. He knew she would go to see him before anything. He also knew she had probably forgotten to call Max. The poor kid was probably worried about her. John turned his attention to his son, lying on the bed before him.<p>

"Come on, Dad," Dean spoke quietly as his dad remained silent. "You got to help me," He had to. "I got to get better. I got to get back in there," Dean furrowed his brow as his father didn't respond. "I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried. Aren't you gonna do anything?" Nothing. "Aren't you even going to say anything?" His dad didn't speak, and Dean felt a dark pit of anger tighten in his stomach. "I've done everything you've ever asked me. Everything. I've given everything I've ever had. Now you're just gonna sit there, and you're gonna watch me die? I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?" Then, a low rumbling filled the room, making Dean frown and walk towards the door. He was almost hit by a ghostly, yellowish figure that swooped by, causing him to jerk back. He glanced back at his Dad and Mel. "I take it you didn't see that,"

He walked quickly after the ghostly figure, not knowing where it went exactly but knowing he was headed in the general direction. Something cold flew behind him, and he whipped around to see the thing entering one of the rooms. In the room, a nurse was lying on the floor convulsing.

"Help," She gasped out, and Dean's eyes widened at the sight. He took a step back, so he was in the hallway again.

"Hey! I need some help in here!" He shouted, but no one could hear him. He rushed into the room and knelt by the gasping girl's side.

"I-I c-can-n't b-breathe" She choked out before going still. Dean ran back to the main entrance to see Sam heading up the stairs with a duffel thrown over his shoulder. He stormed into his dad's room furiously, and Dean was surprised to find Mel entering the room as well.

"Sammy, Mel, tell me you two can freaking hear me. There's something in the hospital. Now, you got to bring me back, and we got to hunt this thing," Dean spoke urgently to Sam, who didn't notice him whatsoever. It wasn't until he turned to Mel, who was regarding Sam warily did he realize something was wrong.

"Sam, don't-" She began softly, but Sam whirled around and threw the bag and his father's feet.

"You think I wouldn't find out?" He demanded before turning on Mel. "Did you know about this?"

"Know about what?" She asked, looking surprised and glancing back and forth between John and Sam uncertainly.

"That stuff from Bobby - you don't use it to ward off a demon - you use it to summon one," Both Dean and Mel's eyes jumped to John in shock. "You're planning on bringing the demon here, having some stupid, macho showdown," Sam yelled.

"I have a plan, Sam," John tried to reason with him as Sam leaned over the hospital bed.

"That's exactly my point!" Sam shouted, getting angrier by the second.

"Sam!" Mel managed to get in front of him and place both hands on his chest, pushing him back.

"No, Mel! How can you be okay with this? Dean is dying, and he has a plan!" He glared accusingly at John over Mel's shoulder. "You know what?" He turned back to John. "You care more about killing this demon than you do about saving your own son,"

"No, no, no. Guys, don't do this," Dean saw the argument unfold as Sam stalked around Mel to get to his dad.

"Do not tell me how I feel. I am doing this for Dean," John's voice rose as well, and Sam scoffed skeptically.

"Sam, just back off, all right?" Mel tried again to stop the yelling match, but her attempt was weak and her exhaustion apparent in her voice.

"How? How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession," Sam was undoubtedly shouting now. "Open your eyes! You almost _shot_ Mel!"

"I didn't shoot her! I couldn't!" John snapped back, and Dean saw Mel's wide eyes as she stopped intervening.

"Come on, guys. Don't do this," Dean begged them, even though no one could hear.

"You pointed the gun!" Sam yelled. "You're obsessed!"

"That's funny," Sarcasm dripped from John's voice as he spoke the words. "You know what, I thought this was your obsession, too. This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged to be a part of this hunt," Mel didn't have the strength to stand anymore and sunk into a chair, massaging her temples; the yelling was making her head pound like a drum.

"Enough!" She mustered the last of her power to project it into that word. "You should've just killed the god damned thing when you had the chance," She sounded dejected and tired as she said the words, and Dean's heart hurt to watch her this broken.

"It was possessing you, Mel. He would've killed you, too," Sam argued, and Mel's eyes flashed.

"At least Dean would be awake!" Mel cried throwing her hands into the air, emotion boiling over.

"We should've killed it-" John began, but Sam didn't give him a chance to finish.

"Go to hell," Whatever his dad had been going to say to Mel was gone as he turned back to Sam furiously.

"I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake," Dean's eyes flicked between John and Sam and then to Mel, who was sitting in the chair, massaging her temples.

"I said 'shut up'!" Mel's head snapped up as Dean knocked the glass of water off the table, causing it to shatter on the floor. Silence. "Dude, I full-on swayzed that mother," Mel's eyes fixed on him then, as if she was looking right at him.

"Mel? Mel, can you hear me?" He was around the table in a heartbeat and in front of her, but her eyes were still fixed on the point he had been moments before. She couldn't see him. Suddenly, there was another low rumbling, and Dean doubled over, clutching his heart and gasping as pain jolted through it. Mel turned with a frown of confusion before it cleared and turned into horror. She was out the door in an instant, leaving Sam to run after her.

-1st Person-

I reached the door as fast as I could, and what I saw inside caused my blood to run cold. There was a crash cart in Dean's room, and a doctor was rubbing the two paddles together before placing them on Dean's chest.

"Clear!" Sam was behind me now, looking into the room. I couldn't tear my eyes from Dean's still face. I needed him. He couldn't die; I still needed him. I needed his smile and his laugh and his stupid, smartass comments. I needed him to hold me and to kiss me and to tell me everything was okay.

"Oh, god," I didn't know if I was whispering aloud or not. "Oh, god, please no. Please,"

"Still no pulse," He didn't have a heartbeat. I kept my eyes on Dean's face, as if somehow that would keep him alive - keep him from leaving me.

_"Melody Scott, would you to go to prom with me?" As I took the rose from his hand, a smile spread across my lips, but it quickly turned into a confused frown._

_"I thought you didn't like prom," I remembered his words from earlier that month._

_"I like you," He responded, leaning down to cover my lips with his._

"Okay, let's go again," The erratic beeping of the heart monitor filled my ears as the doctor called out, "360," The paddles were pressed to Dean's chest, and I prayed for them to work. I didn't even freaking believe in anything, but I prayed. His back arched as the shock was administered. He couldn't be dead. I would fall apart if he died.

"Still no pulse," I let out a choked sob as I kept my eyes on his face. He couldn't leave me. He'd promised. He'd promised he'd stay alive. I couldn't do this without him.

"Please, god," I whispered between choked breaths. "Please, please don't let him die. I need him,"

_"It came at me, and it opened its mouth like it's about to eat me," I explained, shivering as I remembered the dream. "Then I woke up," We lay on the hood, looking up at the stars. I'd had a nightmare, so Dean took me on a night drive._

_"It won't happen," He spoke with confidence, and I glanced up at him with curious surprise._

_"How do you know?" He propped himself up on his elbow, so he could gaze down at me with a smirk._

_"Cause I'll protect you. As long as I'm here, nothing will ever hurt you," And I believed him._

"Clear!" His back arched more this time with the bigger charge.

"No pulse," It felt as though someone had filled my lungs with plaster; I couldn't breathe. Please, don't take him. Distantly, I could feel the tears making hot trails down my face, but I couldn't focus on anything but Dean.

_"I'm serious, Dean. That was reckless and stupid," In answer, Dean slung an arm over my shoulder with a grin that could light up the world on his face._

_"Were you worried?" I turned my eyes on him without laughing at his tease._

_"Yeah, I was," I confessed, and he stopped, studying me for a moment._

_"Well, I wasn't," My eyebrows rose at his statement. "You know why?"_

_"Why?" This should be good. How could you justify using yourself as live bait for a werewolf when you have seventeen year-old as backup? Nothing he could say would make me cease being mad at him._

_"Because I knew my beautiful, badass girlfriend had my back," Except maybe that._

"Starting CPR!" I let out a gut wrenching sob, my eyes still fixed on his unmoving face. He was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

"I said get back!" It was Dean's voice, and my breathing stopped altogether. Something freezing cold brushed me on my right, but I barely noticed. All I could hear was the beep. And then the second beep. And the third.

"We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm," My legs no longer held me up, and I slid to the ground, taking Sam with me. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I struggled to calm myself.

-3rd Person-

"Mel, he's okay," Dean slowly approached the doorway again, and his heart felt as though it was getting ripped out of his chest as he saw Mel, with her back pressed against the wall, trembling like a leaf. "Mel, it's going to be okay, all right? Dean's alive. He'll be okay," Dean knelt in front of her, hating how helpless he felt.

"Don't worry, Mels. I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it get's me," It felt better to talk to her, even if she couldn't hear him. It helped him think. He reached out to brush a tear from her face, but his hand paused before being lowered again. He had to focus on this son of a bitch, and then he could be with her again. "It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it, and if I can grab it, I can kill it," As much as Dean hated the thought, he knew he had to leave Mel and Sam to look for the thing that had almost killed him. He pressed a kiss that she couldn't feel into her hair before walking quickly through the hallways, away from his family.

"Can't you see me?! Why won't you look at me?!" Dean frowned in confusion as he heard a woman's voice screaming from his right. He rolled his eyes as he began to head in that direction.

"Now what?" He grumbled as he made it to the stairs only to stop short in surprise. A woman with short black hair and fair skin was yelling at everyone who passed her, only no one seemed to take any notice of her.

"Somebody talk to me! Say something, please!" She begged them, but they just walked past without glancing at her.

"Can you see me?" Dean called, almost excited at the idea of someone who he could actually talk to.

"Yeah," He ascended the steps to where she was as she turned to face him.

"All right, just calm down," He instructed, trying to retain some composure. "What's your name?"

"Tessa," She answered, her voice shaking.

"Okay, good, Tessa. I'm Dean," He introduced himself, hoping it would help calm her down.

"What's happening to me?" She questioned, fear evident on her face. Dean didn't have an answer for her. "Am I - Am I dead?"

"That sort of depends," He answered and saw her eyebrows draw together in confusion. "What room where you in?" Tessa brushed past him without responding, and he followed without question. They came to a halt in front of room 203 where Tessa's body was lying on a bed with a woman holding her hand.

"I don't understand. I just came in for an appendectomy," She couldn't tear her eyes off her own body as she spoke in confusion.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I think there were some complications," He stated the obvious as the woman clutched Tessa's hand tighter, crying a bit.

"It's just as dream, that's all. This is just a very weird, unbelievably vivid dream," She tried to convince herself as she faced Dean again.

"Tessa, it's not a dream," How he wished it was a dream,

"Then what else could it be?" She inquired, looking up at him.

"You ever heard of an out-of-body experience?" He asked, knowing this was going to be a lot for her to take in. Hell, it was a lot for him to take in, and he had been around the supernatural his entire life.

"What are you, some new-agey guy?" He scoffed at her remark.

"You see me messing with crystals or listening to yanni?" His question was rhetorical, and she didn't answer. "It's actually a very old idea. It's got a lot of different names - bilocation, crisis apparition, fetches. I think it's happening to us. If it is… it means that we're spirits… of people close to death,"

"So we're gonna die?" She looked back at the woman by her bed as she spoke the words.

"No. Not if we hold on," He gained determination as he spoke. "Our bodies can get better. You can snap right back in their and wake up," The two spirits walked down the hallway, away from her room. "I got to say, I'm impressed," He spoke up, and he was. Most people would have freaked out by now. Total meltdown.

"With what?" She questioned, glancing at him.

"You," He replied, not looking at her. "Most people in your spot would be jello by now, but you're taking this pretty well, maybe a little better than me," Dean remembered when he'd first realized what was happening.

"Don't get me wrong - I was pretty freaked at first, but now I don't know. Maybe I'm dealing," She shrugged, keeping her eyes on Dean.

"So you're okay with dying?" Disbelief lined his words.

"No, of course not," She scoffed. "I just think whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen. It's out of my control. It's just fate," Dean took in her words for a second, nodding.

"Well, that's crap. You always have a choice. You can either roll over and die, or you can keep fighting no matter what," Suddenly, doctors and nurses began running past him, and he frowned, starting after them.

"Dean, where are you going?" He ignored her question, holding up a hand to stop her.

"Just wait here," He froze in the doorway of the room to see the ghost that had been above him above a young woman. "Get away from her!" He made a lunge, but the creature disappeared.

"Okay, call it," The doctor looked sadly at one of the nurses.

"Time of Death: 5:11 PM," The nurse's voice was a monotone, and Dean shook his head, taking a step back.

"At least she's not suffering anymore,"

-1st Person-

"You said so yourself, Mel. You felt something. You _heard_ him," I bit my lip as we walked into Dean's room.

"Yeah, but, Sam, a ouija board?" Sam didn't respond as we walked up to Dean's bed.

"Hey, Dean," I smiled softly dow at the sleeping form, trying my utmost to keep my throat from closing. "We think that you're here. You know, as a spirit, so we picked up something that might help,"

"Don't make fun of us for this, but, um," He took out the 'magical talking board', and I could practically feel Dean rolling his eyes. We walked to the foot of the bed and sat down on the floor, setting up the board. "Dean?" Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. I couldn't even believe we were doing this. A week ago we would've laughed at the very idea of this game. "Dean, are you here?" I placed the fingers of my two hands lightly on the board next to Sam's, and then it slowly started moving. My breath caught. Yes. "Oh, it's good to hear from you, man," Sam spoke up as I swallowed hard. "It hasn't been the same without you," I opened my mouth to speak, but the thing began moving again.

"'H'…'U'… hunt," I guessed easily, and the piece moved to yes. "There's a hunt here?" I questioned, and the thing remained on yes. "What is it?" I couldn't stop the questions from pouring out. I was just so relieved to finally be talking to him, even if I couldn't really hear him. R. A bad feeling twisted my stomach. E. A. P. "Reaper," I whispered, but I had freaked out enough for one day.

"Dean, is it after you?" I couldn't breathe as the small, wooden pointer moved to yes. "If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it," Sam spoke softly, and I hated the words. "Man, you're, uh…"

"No," I found my voice and shook my head. "There has to be something we can do," I racked my brain for a moment before one name came to mind, and I looked at Sam. "John," I spoke the name at the same time Sam said, "Dad," We walked into John's room to find it empty with the sheets rumpled.

"Dad?" Sam questioned with no response. I frowned, closing my eyes and sweeping the hospital for John's voice while I tried desperately to ignore the throbbing that began beating in my head as I concentrated. Then, I found him, and my blood ran cold.

"Shit," It was one word. One small, barely audible word, but I heard it and it was John. He was in the basement of the hospital. Why was he in the basement?

"John's journal," I picked the thing up off the bed and handed it to Sam. "Go back to Dean's room and flip through it. Maybe one of you will find something," It felt weird referring to a currently sleeping Dean as awake, but I didn't have time to dwell on the feeling.

"What about you?" Sam's eyebrows were raised questioningly as he accepted the book. I didn't even pause in my strides towards the door.

"I have to check on something," I left before Sam could utter another word.

-3rd Person-

"Where's Mel?" Dean asked his brother as Sam came back into the room with a familiar, leather book clutched in his hands. Sam sat on the side of his bed, next to his body and opened the book.

"Hey, so Dad wasn't in his room. I think Mel went to find him," Dean pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on as he detected the uncertainty in Sam's voice. "But I got Dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something in here," Sam flipped through the pages as Dean came to stand on the opposite side of his bed.

"Thanks for not giving up on me, Sammy," Dean spoke softly, glancing at his own sleeping face before turning his attention to the page Sam had found. Reapers. His eyes were drawn to one specific paragraph, and he leaned closer to get a better look. Everything clicked into place. "Son of a bitch," He stormed out of the room and down the hallway, knowing exactly where he needed to go next. The room was empty except for one black haired woman leaning against the bed. She gazed at his furious expression tranquilly with her hands folded in her lap.

"Hi, Dean," She greeted, and he surpressed the anger as he walked into the room.

"You know, you read the most interesting things," He began, taking measured steps towards Tessa, who was sitting on the bed. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't," The reaper didn't respond. "Basically they can make themselves appear however they want… like, say, a pretty girl," He stopped pacing and faced her. "You're much prettier than the last reaper I met,"

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," She mused quietly.

"I should've known," He reflected, beginning to pace again. "That whole 'accepting fate' rap of yours is far too laid-back for a dead-girl, but, you know, the mother and the body. I'm still trying to figure that one out,"

"It's my sandbox," The reaper explained calmly. "I can make you see whatever I want,"

"What is this, like a turn-on for you, huh? Toying with me?" He demanded, and she shrugged smally.

"You didn't give me much choice," She defended herself. "You saw my true form, and you flipped out. Kind of hurts a girl's feelings. This was the only way I could get you to talk to me,"

"Okay, fine. We're talking. What the hell do you want to talk about?" He questioned, trying to stay calm as the reaper stood.

"How death is nothing to fear. It's your time to go, Dean, and you're living on borrowed time already," She reached up and touched his face gently, ignoring how he flinched away from her fingers. He gasped as a cold chill ran through him.

-1st Person-

I sprinted through the hospital, taking the stairs two at a time. Normally, I wouldn't have been so worried about John, but something inside me was screaming at me that he was in mortal danger. After the second flight of stairs, it was a short run to reach the door of the basement. Blood pounded in my ears, and my heart beat in my throat as I sprinted. Something was very wrong. John was making a horrible choice, and as much as I tried, I couldn't figure out what it was. I just knew he was. In front of me, I could hear his deep throated voice beginning an incantation in latin just as I slammed into the door, throwing it open.

"John!" He whirled to face me, his face betraying his shock at me finding him. My gaze slid past him to settle on the white chalked symbol on the floor along with the bowl of ingredients in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" John demanded gruffly, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I could ask you the same thing," We faced each other in a deadlock for a moment before finally he let out a broken sigh.

"I have to do this, Mel," His voice was resigned and defeated, which scared me more than I could put into words.

"What is 'this'?" His gaze dropped to the symbol on the floor before he met my eyes again.

"You have to go back upstairs," He ignored my question, and I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I could. "I'm saving Dean's life,"

"Don't do anything stupid, John," I warned him, and he held up the colt that he carried in his left arm.

"I'm going to trade this for Dean's life," He confessed, and I could hear the truth in his words. Something was still off. I frowned at him but finally accepted his answer. "You have to go back upstairs. It's the way these things work," I took a hesitant step towards the door before glancing back at John.

"You're sure you're alright?" He smiled softly at me, and there was a hint of sorrowful pride in his eyes as he nodded.

"Mel," His voice stopped me, and I turned back to face him questioningly. "I've always thought of you like a daughter, you know that," I frowned, opening my mouth to tell him that I knew, but he didn't let me. "Dean - he takes care of this family, and you take care of him. He needs you - they both do,"

"I know, John. I'm not going anywhere," I reassured him, starting to worry a bit.

"I know," He smiled, but it was a strained, sad smile. "But, Mel, if you can't take care of them anymore, you have to leave them," My eyes widened.

"W-what are you talking about?" He just shook his head, a small tear making it's way down his face.

"You'll find out soon enough. Just remember what I said. You should go. Dean will be waking up soon," He told me. There was no way in hell I was leaving now. He seemed to read my mind, for his next words left me no choice but to turn around and go back the way I'd come. "If you don't leave, Dean will die," I swallowed hard before letting the door swing shut behind me. I didn't know what to do, so I walked back up to Dean's room, but stopped short as I heard Sam's voice from inside.

"You can't leave me and Mel here alone with Dad. Mel will try to help, but Dad and I will kill each other. You know that. Dean, you got to hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again," I leaned against the doorway, watching Sam talk to the sleeping Dean. "Can you hear me?" His voice broke, and he glanced, finally seeing me. He roughly brushed a tear from his eye and sniffled. I crossed the room to wrap my arms around Sam as he shook.

"It's going to be alright, Sammy. He'll make it," I promised him, desperately trying to ignore the persistent tug in my gut.

-3rd Person-

"Look, I'm sure you've heard this before, but… you got to make an exception. You got to cut me a break," Dean pleaded with the reaper.

"Stage three - bargaining," Dean turned away from the window to look at the reaper in disbelief.

"I'm serious," A vivid image of Mel's devastated face as he flatlined flashed through his mind. "My family is in danger. See, we're kind of in the middle of this, uh…war. And they need me,"

"The fight's over," She informed him apathetically.

"No it isn't," He argued.

"It is for you," She spoke with quiet conviction.

"I have to protect them," He disagreed passionately, and she shook her head.

"You can't," She met his eyes surely. "If this is about Melody, you can't," His heart tightened when she spoke her name, unknowingly hardening his resolve. "You can't save her," He frowned at those familiar words… that voice. _You can't save her_. His dream. His eyes widened at the realization. She'd been the voice in those dreams telling him to give up.

"It was you," His face twisted with anger, and he started towards her.

"No, it wasn't," She shook her head again, and he frowned in confusion. "He was using my voice. There are plans for her, Dean. Plans that you're not a part of," He opened his mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, but she simply continued without pausing to explain. "Dean, you're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same. They all have wives, girlfriends, families that they need to go back to. They all feel they can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance, but they're wrong. The battle goes on without them,"

"No," Dean denied. "My brother, Mel, they could die without me,"

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Nothing you can do about it," Dean couldn't stand looking at her anymore and walked a short distance away. "It's an honorable death, a warrior's death,"

"I think I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks," Dean smartassed. It was the only way he could think of to stall what was coming. "I have a girlfriend, anyway,"

"That's funny. You're very cute. I can see why she likes you," The reaper spoke in the same monotone.

"There's no such thing as an honorable death. My corpse is gonna rot in the ground, and my family is gonna die," He shook his head as the horror of that set in. "No," He flat out refused. "I'm not going with you. I don't care what you do,"

"Well, like you said… there's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. Look, you're not getting back in your body, and that's just facts. So, yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years - disembodied, scared, watching the people you love grow old without you. Over the decades, it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent, hurt someone you care about," He frowned as her words sunk in.

"What are you saying?" He questioned warily.

"Dean, how do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go, and they can't move on, and you're about to become one - the same thing you hunt," Dean sat down heavily on the bed, and the reaper sat next to him. "She wouldn't want that for you. She'd want you to put the pain behind you,"

"And go where?" His voice was hoarse as he asked the question weakly. Either way, he was screwed. _Watching the people you love grow old without you_. Her words rang in his head. He couldn't watch Mel grow old, find someone else, have a family, all while he stayed the same. He just couldn't do that. He _would_ go mad.

"Sorry," The reaper spoke softly. "I can't give away the big punch line," There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?" He took a deep breath and turned to face her, and then the lights began to flicker. He stood, looking around warily before fixing his eyes on Tessa.

"What're you doing that for?" She looked at him, just as miffed as he was.

"I'm not doing it," Suddenly, black smoke began billowing from the air vent in the corner of the room.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered as the stuff crawled towards Tessa.

"You can't do this!" She cried, showing more emotion than Dean had seen since he'd met the reaper. "Get away!"

"What's happening?" Her only reply was a piercing scream as the black smoke jammed it's way down her throat. The scream abruptly cut off, and she whipped her head around to fix her bright, yellow eyes on Dean.

"Today's your lucky day, kid," The possessed reaper put a hand on Dean's forehead, and he gasped as a bolt of pain shot through him.

-1st Person-

I gazed down at Dean's hand in mine. It had been two days since the accident. The most stressful two days of my life, and now, hopefully, they'd be over in a couple of moments. John had said he was going to trade the gun for Dean's life, that had been a few minutes ago. Why wasn't he awake already? Maybe it hadn't worked. Maybe the demon had got out. Then, Dean let out a gasp that made me jump.

"Dean!" Sam and I exclaimed at the same time. His hand tightened around mine, and I hovered over him, placing the hand that wasn't in his softly on his cheek. "Sam, get a nurse," I ordered, glancing up before my eyes found Dean's very much alive face. A nurse rushed in and pushed me off the bed, causing my hand to be ripped from Dean's.

* * *

><p>"I can't explain it. The adhema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You got to have some kind of angel watching over you," I felt as though for the first time in three days, I could breathe again<p>

"Thanks, doc," Dean thanked him, and the doctor left with a nod.

"You said a reaper was after me?" Dean questioned us. We'd taken turns filling him in on what had happened while he was in the coma. Apparently, he didn't remember any of it.

"Yeah," Sam responded, nodding.

"How did I ditch it?" He asked, and Sam and I shrugged.

"You got me," Sam replied while I stayed silent. Something inside me told me it wasn't a good idea to tell them about the colt just yet.

"Dean, are you sure you don't remember anything?" I was surprised that he didn't even remember bits of what had happened.

"No," He shook his head, sounding confused. "Except this pit in my stomach. Guys, something's wrong," His eyes turned to me, pleading with me to believe him. "Don't you feel it?" Before I could answer, there was a knock on the door.

"How you feeling, Dean?" John stood there, his arm in a sling, smiling at his son.

"Fine, I guess," Dean replied hesitantly. "I'm alive,"

"That's what matters," I had never agreed more with anything John had said.

"Where were you last night?" Sam demanded, anger seeping into his voice.

"I had some things to take care of," He answered ambiguously, glancing at me before looking back at Sam.

"Well, that's specific," Sam quipped sarcastically.

"Come on, Sam," Dean groaned.

"Did you go after the demon?" He questioned, and John's eyes dropped to the ground.

"Sam, let it go," I put the hand that wasn't in Dean's on his arm to stop him from moving towards John.

"No," John replied dully.

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?" Sam snapped.

"Can we not fight?" John asked, and my eyes snapped to him. Something was not right. "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Look, Sammy, I've… I've made some mistakes, but I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

"Dad, are you alright?" Sam's voice softened to a concerned, almost scared tone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hey, would you mind, uh - would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine," Sam and I understood he wanted to talk to Dean alone.

"Yeah, of course," I squeezed Dean's hand lightly before getting up and walking towards the door with Sam.

"Could you…" Sam started, but I already knew where his head was at.

"I'm not going to eavesdrop on John and Dean's conversation," Sam let out a frustrated huff at my words, and we walked in silence for a few more moments.

"He's alright," Sam spoke the words, and I let out a small laugh. "He's really alright,"

"Yeah," But something told me that that might not be the case. "What are you going to do now?" I glanced at him, and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

"What do you mean?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes at him. "I'll hunt the demon with you, Dean, and Dad," We ordered the coffee and waited for the woman to finish making it.

"No more college?" I questioned, knowing what his answer would be, but needing him to say it anyway. I needed him to assure me that he still had plans to go back. He still had plans to live a normal life.

"I don't know," He confessed. That wasn't the answer I'd been hoping for. "I'm still thinking about college, you know. Law school is still there," The woman handed us our coffee, and we walked through the hallway back to Dean's room. I glanced to the right and stopped short, grabbing Sam's jacket.

"Sam!" I ran into the room and knelt by the figure lying motionlessly on the floor. Sam was beside me in an instant. I think he was screaming. I couldn't tell. There was no pulse. I couldn't hear a pulse. More people were arriving.

"Get him onto the bed!" I wasn't sure who yelled it, but he was being ripped away from Sam and I. Sam turned me to face him and shook me a bit.

"I'm going to get Dean," I nodded mutely, and he ran out the door. My eyes fell on the man lying limply on the bed. John Winchester, my second father, the man who'd raised me, didn't have a pulse. I gripped the door frame as the nurse came towards me, trying to shoo me out.

"I'm sorry but you have to leave," She told me, and I shook my head at her without tearing my eyes from where the doctors were doing compressions on John. The nurse grabbed my arm in an attempt to pull me out.

"Get off of her! No, no, no. It's our dad. It's our dad!" Dean. He was next to me now, but I still couldn't bring myself to look away from John's limp body.

"Okay. Let's try again. An amp of atropine," The doctor ordered, and the nurses complied while I stood their helplessly.

"Come on," Dean muttered, and I felt tears start to prick at my eyes as my heart ached.

"Please," I whispered despairingly as the nurse pushed the needle into the tube. No response. The erratic beeping of the monitor continued.

"Okay, stop compression," The mask was removed from John's face, and the woman standing beside him checked his neck. I didn't need to hear what she said; my ears already told me all I needed to know. "Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it," Don't say it. Please, god, don't say it. "Time of death - 10:41 A.M.," I turned into Dean's chest, letting the tears flow, and I felt his arm go around me numbly as his forehead pressed against my hair. John Winchester was dead.


	2. Everybody Loves A Clown

****Here's the next update! Hope everyone loves it! I really loved this episode when I was watching the series, and I hope I did it justice in this! Please review! I really do love reading them! Tell me what you think!****

_Everybody Loves A Clown_

I stood between Sam and Dean, staring at the body that we'd placed atop the dry firewood, with my head on Dean's shoulder while his arm was wrapped tightly around my waist. Time seemed meaningless as the three of us just stood, watching, frozen. Finally, Dean took the lighter gently from my unmoving fingers and lit the match. Originally, I was going to set the match, but now that we were here, I couldn't make myself do it. Dean stepped foreword to set the pyre ablaze, his arm slipping from my waist and his hand finding mine briefly before he returned to his former place as if nothing had changed. No one spoke as John's body burned.

Dean had been unusually stoic and quiet since we'd left the hospital with John's body, and it was worrying me more than I wanted to admit. I'd cried when he died, but the past few days had been a blur of me comforting Sam and Bobby and even Max and Jez. I'd called her as soon as John had died; she'd been surprisingly hurt by the news. I hadn't expected her to be; they weren't that close. An airy sob brought me back to reality, and I glanced to my right to see tears rolling unchecked down Sam's cheeks. The sight felt like another dagger piercing my heart to join the arsenal that was already lodged there. I reached out tentatively to take his hand and give it what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze. His hand tightened around mine, and I didn't retract it, knowing that both of us needed the comfort right now.

"Before he…" Sam's voice grew too choked to continue speaking. "Before he…" He tried again, and I gave his hand another squeeze, causing his eyes to flick to me before back to the fire. "…Did he say anything to either of you? About anything?"

"No. Nothing," Dean answered, his voice as impassive as his face. I rested my forehead against his shoulder as my mind flew back to John's words. _If you can't take care of them anymore, you have to leave them._

"No," I echoed the syllable emptily. Telling them what John had said wouldn't do either of them any good, and it didn't matter either way. No matter what happened, I wouldn't leave them.

_One Week Later_

I rested my elbows on the porch, the ice cold beer growing warm between my hands as I listened to the sound of Dean working on the car. Usually, I'd be out helping him, but I was on a lunch break right now. I was worried about him. It had been a week and all he'd done was work on the Impala, which was still in unrecognizable shape, and drink, only stopping occasionally to eat. What was worse, he acted as if he was fine.

"You know, there was a time when I would've given anything for you to look like that when thinking of me," I looked up to see Maxwell standing behind me with his arms folded across his chest.

"Hey," I greeted softly, turning back to face the junkyard. Max had been a good friend this past week, and he'd told us he'd stay at Bobby's until we got back on our feet.

"He'll be fine," I sighed heavily at Max's confident words, for I knew the confidence was fake just like I knew he knew Dean was acting weird. Instead of being his usual, jerk self to Max, Dean had just been indifferent towards him, only acknowledging the man when absolutely necessary.

"I'm worried about him," I admitted. There was no point in keeping it hidden from Max; he probably knew already anyways.

"You worry too much," He informed me, resting his elbows next to mine on the porch railing while I managed a small, soft laugh at his analysis of me.

"Cons of living with the Winchesters," I shrugged, not able to tear my eyes from the junkyard where Dean was working endlessly on the car.

"Yeah," Max agreed quietly, and we fell into a small silence. A creak behind us caused me to turn to see Sam standing there.

"Sam," I straightened at his appearance.

"Hey, are you doing alright?" I gave him a look with pursed lips that caused his lips to turn upwards slightly. " Right, I promised to stop asking you that question. Well, I'm going to talk to Dean. He's been out there all day," I could hear the worry laced in Sam's voice, and I nodded, not really sure that was the best thing for either of them but going with it anyway.

"I'm going to help Bobby with the hunt he's researching," Max excused himself as I turned back to the junkyard. I shut my eyes as Sam passed me, heading through the junkyard. I knew it was wrong, but at this point, I didn't care. Dean hadn't spoken about John or the demon in a week, and it was scaring me how well he was taking it.

"How's the car coming along?" I heard Sam question as he walked up to the Impala.

"Slow," Dean's response was accompanied by the mechanic clink of what I thought was probably a wrench.

"Yeah? You need any help?" Sam asked just as there was a metal clank of something, presumably part of the car, hitting the cement.

"What - you under a hood? I'll pass," A note of dull amusement entered Dean's voice. "Do you know when Mel's coming back out?" I should probably go back soon.

"She's finishing her beer. Probably a minute or so," Sam replied unsurely.

"Tell her to bring me one when you go back, will you?" A small, joyless smile twitched at my lips at those words. At least some things don't change.

"Sure. Need anything else?" There was the squeak of wheels that was Dean rolling out from under the car.

"Stop it, Sam," He told his brother.

"Stop what?" Sam inquired innocently.

"Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay," There was a pause before he added, "Really. I promise," I didn't bother trying to detect if he was lying. I knew Dean better than I knew anyone. That demon was right. Dean was holding in the pain, and it would eat him up inside.

"All right, Dean, it's just… we've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad or the demon once," I winced at Sam's tactlessness.

"You know what? You're right," Dean started, and I could tell he was holding back anger. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we could cry and hug and maybe even slow dance," I sighed. Sam was getting nowhere.

"Don't patronize me, Dean," Sam got angry, and I began walking towards the junkyard. "Dad is dead, the colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened,"

"What do you want me to say?" He shrugged, going back to the car.

"Say something, all right?!" Sam exploded just as they came into view. "Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car,"

"Revenge?" I offered Dean my beer, which he gladly accepted. "How are we supposed to plot our revenge with no leads? Cause we don't," To be honest, I wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of getting right back on that horse and going after the demon. Last time we went head to head with that thing we lost John and we almost lost Dean. I couldn't afford that again. "Besides, like you said, the colt's vanished, so even if we do find the thing, we can't kill it,"

"Exactly, but I'm sure you figured out another way to kill it, right?" Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm. "We got nothing, Sam - nothing, okay? So, you know, the only thing we can do is we can work on the car,"

"Well, we got something, all right?" My eyes found Sam's face in surprise. "It's what I came out here to tell you. It's one of Dad's old phones," Sam explained, pulling a cell out of his pocket and punching in some numbers. "It took me a while but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this," He held it out, putting it on speaker.

"John," A woman's voice came out of the phone, and I frowned at the unfamiliarity of it. "It's Ellen… again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me," Dean and I looked at Sam expectantly.

"That message is four months old," Sam elaborated, and my eyebrows raised in surprise.

"He saved her message for four months?" I questioned skeptically. John usually deleted messages immediately after he heard them. Why would he save this one?

"Yeah," Sam answered, glancing back down at the phone.

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean asked the most important question. "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No, but I ran a trace on the phone number, and I got an address," Sam told us, and I sighed, knowing what this would mean.

"I'll go ask Bobby if we can borrow one of his cars,"

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Dean was driving a brown minivan down the bumpy dirt road as I sat shotgun, which didn't make the ride much better. In the back were Sam and Maxwell, who'd decided to come with us just in case we needed backup. An extra hunter never hurt even though Dean hadn't liked the idea all too much. Dean parked the car in front of 'Harvelle's Roadhouse' and ripped the keys out of the ignition without bothering to roll up the windows.<p>

"This is humiliating," He grumbled as he tore open the door and got out of the tin can. "I feel like a friggin soccer mom,"

"Agreed," I muttered, getting out the other side and walking around the car to join him as he started towards the roadhouse. "But it's the only car that was working. Be happy we didn't get the beater,"

"She's right. That car's complete junk," Max added, grinning as he ascended the three steps to the porch and bent down to peek through the window. "Hello?" He called with no answer.

"Is anyone here?" Sam didn't get a response either, and I knocked on the door, which earned me nothing.

"Hey, did you bring the - uh," Dean didn't have to finish the thought, for Sam fished a leather bound kit from his pocket and tossed it to me.

"Of course," Was his only response as I picked the lock, opening the door, and the four of us headed inside. There was a loud buzzing to our right that made me jump, but it was just a bug light. I was about to focus my hearing to see if I could find anyone, when my eyes fell on the passed out figure on the pool table.

"Hey," I made my way towards him cautiously with Dean beside me.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," Sam stated the obvious, and I nodded distractedly, reaching out with one finger to lightly poke the limp form. He didn't stir. I whirled around when I heard the familiar cocking of a gun.

"I really hope that's a rifle," My eyes flew to Max as he spoke the words, and I saw a young woman standing behind him, holding a rifle that was pressed against his back.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," Sam was nowhere to be found, and Max held up his hands in surrender. "Make a move and he gets it," As she spoke her eyes fixed on us before sliding back to the back of Max's head. "You, too. Don't move,"

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," He answered cockily, and I saw the corner of her mouth twitch up in the smile she was fighting. You've got to be kidding me. Max made eye contact with me and winked before turning his head slightly. "You don't threaten people much, do you?"

"What makes you say that?" She replied to the question with a wary question of her own.

"Because when you hold a rifle on someone, you can't have it pressed right against their back. If you do, they can always do…" He spun around quickly, maneuvering the gun out of her stunned grip. "This," He finished cockily, putting the safety back on the gun. She punched him right in the nose, making him jerk back and double over as she snatched the gun back. "Bloody hell," I watched with wide, surprised eyes as he swore, holding his nose.

"I like her," Dean announced with a laugh in his voice. I rolled my eyes at his amused, happy tone, but I couldn't help agreeing with him. She did have spunk, I'll give her that.

"Any help?" Max snapped, glancing expectantly at us. I took a step forward but stopped and shrugged helplessly as she trained the gun on Max again. She wouldn't kill him. Punch him maybe, but not kill him. I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't a killer. "Sam!" He called, and the door to the kitchen was pushed open to reveal Sam with his hands on his head.

"Sorry, I can't. I'm a little tied up," A woman followed him, immediately training another gun on Dean and me as she laid eyes on us. Dean's hand that had frozen around my waist when the girl showed up, now slowly slipped under my jacket to wrap around the hilt of the gun that was hidden there. The older woman's eyes found mine, and hers widened fractionally in recognition.

"Melody? Melody Scott?" I frowned at the way she spoke my name, like she'd known me for a very long time. "Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah," I responded for all of us, a clear question in my voice.

"Son of a bitch," She murmured, sounding miffed.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The young woman still holding the rifle on Max asked her mother. Dean let go of the gun and returned his hand to my waist as it became clear that they weren't a threat.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids," She then nodded to me. "And that's Jimmy's daughter," She began laughing and lowered the gun, clicking the safety on. "Hey, I'm Ellen," She introduced, and I let out a small breath of relief. "That's my daughter, Jo," Jo lowered the rifle she'd been threatening Max with.

"Hey," She greeted shortly, and Max pulled his hand away from his nose, turning to regard her.

"Not planning on hitting me again, are you?" He questioned, only half joking, and Ellen sighed.

"Sit down, I'll get you some ice," Max took a seat on a stool as Ellen made him a makeshift icepack to hold on his nose.

"You called our dad, said you could help - help with what?" Dean prompted her as we sat on couches and chairs in a rough circle.

"Well, the demon, of course," My eyes fixed on her eagerly as she spoke those words. "I heard he was closing in on it,"

"Was there an article in the _Demon Hunter's Quarterly_ that I missed?" Dean questioned in annoyance. "I mean, how do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon, but hunters have been known to pass through now and again," She grinned, glancing at Jo. So more than now and again. "Including both your dads, a long time ago. John and Jimmy were like family once,"

"Then why didn't either of them ever mention you?" I asked her, wanting to know more information about my dad. I couldn't help it. If there was something else, something people that he was close to, I wanted to know them. It made him seem more alive to me, more real.

"You'd have to ask John that," Her eyes flicked to me with a familiar apology written in them before they returned to Dean. I felt Dean stiffen beside me, and I hooked my pinky through his, wishing I could do more but knowing any more would get noticed by Ellen and Jo.

"So, why exactly do we need your help?" He inquired gruffly, changing the subject from John to the hunt.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your asses on the way out, but John wouldn't have sent you if…" She stopped short, her eyes boring into ours before she straightened in realization. "He didn't send you," This time I took Dean's hand, lacing my finger's through his as much to comfort him as myself. Dean looked back at Sam before gazing at me and then Ellen again."He's all right, isn't he?"

"No," Max took the question, having been the least torn up by the news of John's death. "We're thinking it was the demon," He spoke, and I took a deep breath, trying not to open the floodgates to all the emotions I'd been surpressing.

"It just got him before he got it, I guess," Sam added, attempting a small smile that looked more like a grimace.

"I'm so sorry," Ellen told us earnestly.

"It's okay. We're alright," Dean spoke for all of us as he answered her condolences.

"Really, I know how close you and your dad-" She started.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," He cut her off.

"Dean," I didn't have the energy to speak his name sharply so instead I said it with a quiet warning, knowing that he was starting to get defensive and we needed to focus on the reason we came here. He looked away from Ellen to fix his eyes on me, and I held his gaze unflinchingly before turning back to the woman. "Look, if you could help we'd be really grateful,"

"Well, we can't," My eyebrows rose at her words. All that build up for that? "But Ash will,"

"Who's Ash?" Max questioned curiously.

"Ash!" Ellen's yell was her only response, and behind us the limp figure that was passed out on the pool table jerked up, flailing around before turning slightly.

"Closing time?" He asked, and she looked back at us.

"That's Ash?" Max inquired incredulously. "No offense, but how's he going to help us?"

"He's a genius," Jo informed us, and my eyebrows rose further. The three boys glanced at me, and I shrugged before getting up and going to the bar to sit beside Ash.

"You got to be kidding me. This guy's no genius," Dean told them skeptically, standing behind me with Max to his left as Sam sat to my right. "He's a lynyrd Skynyrd roadie," Ash let out a small laugh, glancing at Ellen before looking back at Dean.

"I like you," Ash told him, and Dean just grinned.

"Thanks," I shook my head at the two. Men.

"Just give him a chance," Jo cleaned some glasses in front of us as she talked, and Dean shrugged before sitting beside me.

"Alright. Well, this stuff is a year's worth of our dad's work, so let's see what you make of it," Dean slid the heavy file over to Ash, who regarded it with mild curiosity before opening it and leafing through it.

"Come on," He scoffed as he flipped through the pages. "This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this," My eyes flicked to Dean, and I saw a pride blazing in his eyes.

"Our dad could," Sam's voice held the same pride, and I smiled softly.

"These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean… damn. They're signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun,"

"Could you track it?" I asked him, and he glanced at me before grinning.

"Yeah, with this, I think so, but it's gonna take time. Give me…" He paused, closing his eyes and doing some sort of mental calculation. "Fifty-one hours," I let out a small, shocked laugh as Ash got up and began walking away. Damn.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, and he turned. "By the way, I dig the haircut," Ash grinned again.

"All business in the front," He grabbed a piece of his mullet to show us. "Party in the back," He turned and walked to his room as I laughed slightly, shaking my head. I liked him. He had style. It was a weird style, but it was style.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" I followed Sam's pointed finger to the black device that sat in the back.

"It's a police scanner," She explained. "We keep tabs on things-" She began the explanation, and I glanced up as I heard Max leave the group and head towards Jo.

"No, no, no, no. The folder," Dean stood up as Sam talked, having lost interest in what he was saying, and I hesitated for a moment before letting Dean pull me away from the bar. We walked over to the jukebox, and he put in a quarter, pressing a song. A smile spread across my face as the intro to 'Far Away' by Nickelback came on. I hadn't heard that song in at least two years even though I loved it to no end. I'd heard it for the first time at our junior prom when we'd danced to it.

"Are you serious?" I asked him, not being able to hold in the small laugh.

"Come on. Why not?" With everything that was going on, this had been the last thing I expected Dean to do, but I wasn't about to argue. I rested my hand comfortably on his shoulder, and he placed his on my waist. He let out a breathy chuckle as we started moving slowly to the music with my other hand in his. I felt as though I were back in high school again, and if I closed my eyes and tried, I could pretend that I was. We were slow dancing at the prom, and John was alive and my dad was alive and our lives were as perfect as they would ever be. "Hey," I looked up at him and saw the clear emotions in his eyes. "We're gonna be okay. Whatever happens, you'll always have me. I'm always going to protect you,"

"I know, Dean," I smiled softly at him as he gazed into my eyes. "I'll always be here," It was what he'd wanted to hear, for his face lightened as he smiled genuinely for the first time since John.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He murmured as he rested his forehead on mine.

"Well, someone has to keep you in check, idiot," I whispered, making him laugh quietly, his hot breath brushing my cheek. It was perfect, this moment. I wished I could just freeze it and stay in his arms, right here, forever.

"Lovebirds!" Dean and I looked up at Sam's shout to see him gesturing us over.

"Oh, what now?" Dean grumbled, sounding annoyed, and I reluctantly dropped my hand from his shoulder and headed towards where Sam was sitting at the bar.

"Check this out," We reached Sam at the same time Max did, and I scanned the documents over his shoulder. "A few murders not far from here that Ellen caught wind of - looks to me like there might be a hunt,"

"Yeah, so?" Dean asked, playing dumb to what Sam was trying to say.

"So, I told her we'd check it out," Sam explained, and I felt oddly excited to be hunting again. I glanced up at Max to see him looking torn.

"You coming?" Max's eyes flicked away for a split second, and I followed his gaze to Jo, or, more specifically, Jo's ass.

"No, I'll stay. See if Ash needs any help," Sure. Sam, Dean, and I left the roadhouse in the poor excuse for a car. As Dean drove, Sam explained what the case was about, and I had to admit, I was surprised that he'd chosen this case, especially with his… phobia.

"You got to be kidding me - killer clown?" Dean scoffed in disbelief as I sat in the passenger's seat, flipping through the newspaper clippings.

"Yeah," I nodded, making a face as I reached a particularly graphic picture of the parents. "The daughter was fine, but the clown murdered the parents. Tore them to shreds, as a matter of fact,"

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean checked, and I nodded again.

"Right, right, the Cooper carnival," Sam read over my shoulder as he held the flashlight for me. It was pitch black outside and raining, which meant that whoever was in the back held the flashlight while the person in the passenger's seat studied the case. We'd perfected that a while back.

"How do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carny in a clown suit?" Dean made a good point, and I frowned. We could be, but this didn't feel like a regular murder.

"I don't think so. The cops don't know what happened. The clown just vanished, and all the employees from the carnival were taking it down, meaning alibis,"

"Right, plus the girl actually said she saw the clown disappear into thin air," Sam added, pointing to the section in the notes I'd made. "Cops are saying trauma, of course,"

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam - 'why did it have to be clowns?'" I laughed aloud at Dean's jab at the kid. Sammy had what was known as coulrophobia, also known as the fear of clowns.

"Oh, give me a break," Sam complained as Dean joined in my laughter.

"You didn't think we'd remember, did you? Come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on television," Dean joked, and Sam let out an annoyed huff.

"Come on, Dean, leave him alone. I mean, clowns can be very scary with their big smiles and red nose. It's really the stuff of nightmares," Sam groaned, which only made us laugh more.

"At least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam turned the tables on Dean, and I bit my lip as he turned to me. "Or mice," I glowered.

"Planes crash!" Dean defended.

"Mice are evil. Have you never seen the nutcracker?" I pointed out, making Sam snort derisively and Dean laugh.

"Well, apparently clowns kill," Sam made his argument before we returned to going through the file.

"So, these types of murders - they ever happen before?" Dean questioned, getting back to the case.

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the bunker brothers circus," Sam informed him, and I followed the flashlight beam to the section he was reading.

"It was the same M.O., too. There were three different sets of murders with three different locations," I read, taking in the information as I was speaking it.

"It's weird, though. If it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale - a house or a town," Dean pointed out logically, and I nodded in agreement.

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked the question Dean had been getting at.

"Could be attached to an object of some sort? Maybe in the circus?" I suggested, flipping through the pages. "Spirits can attach themselves to anything," I reminded them, even though they already knew.

"Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt," Sam grumbled sarcastically.

"Well, this case was your idea," Despite everything, I was thrilled that we were on a hunt instead of just sitting on our butts doing nothing at Bobby's. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job,"

"So?" Sam shrugged in answer.

"It's just not like you, that's all," Dean noted, and I bit my lip but didn't speak. "I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt,"

"Well, I think a job'll be good for us," I spoke up when Sam didn't respond. "Besides, we have fifty-one hours to kill," I added. "And I'm pretty sure Bobby was about to kick us out himself if we didn't do something,"

"Exactly. It's what Dad would've wanted us to do," I winced at Sam's word choice.

"What Dad would've wanted?" Dean echoed in surprise.

"Yeah, so?" Sam faced his brother now, and I felt Dean's hand tense in mine before relaxing again.

"Nothing," He replied, turing his attention back to the road, which made me frown. Lately, his face had been guarded, and that worried me. He was never guarded around me, not like he was now. We drove for most of the night before finally arriving at the carnival the next morning.

"Check it out - five-o," I glanced to where Dean had said to see two clowns being interrogated by men in suits and sunglasses. Damn it. Feds. Sam and I went to wait by the spinning chairs while Dean talked to the Feds.

"Something's wrong with him," Sam began as soon as Dean was out of earshot, and I sighed heavily. "I know you've seen it too, Mel,"

"Everyone grieves in their own way, Sammy," I tried to reason as much to convince him as myself. "Give him time. He'll come around,"

"I don't know, Mel. The way he looks at me sometimes… he's not telling us something. He won't talk to me," I knew where Sam was headed, and I didn't like it.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Force him to talk to me?" I snapped, growing annoyed as much with Sam as with Dean. "He'll open up when he's ready,"

"Fine," Sam sighed in resignation. "I'm just worried about him," He confessed, and I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know. Me too," I admitted, my eyes finding Dean, who was talking to the police by the trailers.

"He's lucky he has you," I frowned at Sam's assessment, turning to look at him. It was an odd thing for him to say.

"You both do," I replied, unsurely. "Sam, if you ever need anyone to talk to, you know I'm here," I met his eyes assuredly, and he swallowed, quickly looking away.

"Yeah," The word was clipped and curt. "I just can't believe he's gone, you know?"

"Yeah," I whispered, my gaze falling to my hands. "I know what you mean,"

"I keep expecting him to be there or to call or something," Sam shook his head, and the ache that had been in my heart for over week now grew stronger. I placed my hand comfortingly on Sam's shoulder, and he glanced at me with a small, sad smile.

"We're keeping busy. It's what he would've wanted for us," I tried my best to comfort him. A small woman, who couldn't have been taller than four feet walked by, giving us a glare, and I felt Sammy stiffen beside me, letting out a breath after she moved on.

"Did you get her number?" Dean questioned, coming up beside me as I grinned.

"So, what'd you find?" I prompted, saving Sam from having to come up with a retort, and he shot me a grateful look.

"Two more murders last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds, and they had a little boy with them," Dean added, making my heart grow heavy for the kid.

"Who fingered a clown," I made a face, looking up at Sam. That definitely was not the wording he'd wanted. "What?" Sam asked innocently as he caught sight of the looks Dean and I were giving him.

"Yes, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air," Dean told us, annoyance coating his words.

"Guys, looking for a cursed object, especially in this place where every object is supposedly cursed, is like trying to find a blade of grass in a meadow. It could be anything here," I told them logically.

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF," Dean reasoned. "We'll just have to scan everything,"

"Oh, good. That's nice and inconspicuous," Sam spoke with sarcasm laced through his tone.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in," I know that tone, and I tracked Dean's gaze to the workers that were coming out of the tent carrying boxes of props and costumes, behind them, nailed to a white beam, was a help wanted sign. We walked towards the tent and went inside to see a man throwing knives at a wooden target. He hit the bullseye with every throw.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper. Have you seen him around?" Dean questioned, and his smile dropped as the man turned, revealing his too-dark glasses.

"What is that - some kind of joke?" He took off his glasses to reveal pale blue eyes with white irises. He was blind.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Dean stumbled over his words as the man grew angry.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper or a sunset or anything at all," He ranted, and Dean glanced back at Sam and I.

"You want to give me a little help here?" He asked, and Sam grinned.

"Not really," He replied.

"Hey, Barry," A man cut in before I could bail him out. "Is there a problem?" We turned to face the man who was even shorter than the woman we'd encountered a few minutes before.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people," The man behind us with the knives informed the dwarf.

"No, I don't," Dean tried to deny, but the dwarf wouldn't listen.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" The man demanded, jerking the staff he was carrying at Dean threateningly.

"Nothing. It's just a little misunderstanding," Dean started.

"Little? You son of a bitch," I pressed three fingers against my mouth to stifle the laugh that was struggling to come out. The fact that Sam was quietly snickering behind me didn't help.

"No, no, no! Could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is? Please?" Dean held out a hand to both of them, trying to hold off their attack. They led us to Dean's tent, and I couldn't help laughing a little bit. "That was embarrassing," Dean muttered.

"Oh, come on, Dean," I nudged him with my shoulder as we walked. "It was kinda funny. You have to admit,"

"Fine," His tone lost some of it's bitterness. "Maybe a little," The dwarf turned a glare on him at the term, and I bit back another laugh.

"You three picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper greeted us as he walked into his trailer. "Take a seat," He gestured to the two normal seats in front of the desk and the one, wooden clown one. Dean and I hurried into the normal chairs. "We got all kinds of local trouble,"

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned, and Mr. Cooper sighed heavily.

"A couple of folks got themselves murdered, cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper gave a short explanation, and I offered him a strained smile. "So, you three ever work the circuit before?"

"Of course, sir," I took the question, lying easily. "Just last year we went through Texas and Arkansas,"

"Doing what? Ride jockeys? A and S men?" He listed some possibilities that completely went over our heads.

"Little bit of everything, I guess," Sam covered badly, and the man leaned back in his seat.

"You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?" He figured it out much faster than everyone else we'd conned before.

"Nope," Dean openly admitted, unashamed. "But we really need the work, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady," I tried desperately to hold in my laugh, but I couldn't quite get a handle on it. Sam glared at him while he laughed, and Dean stopped quickly.

"You see that picture," Mr. Cooper pointed to a picture that hung framed on his wall. "That's my daddy,"

"You look just like him," Sam told him. It was true. They were the spitting image of each other; it was almost eerie.

"He was in the business - ran a freak show till they outlawed them most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from hones work rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts, always has been, for folks that don't fit in nowhere else, but you three… you should go to school, find yourself a family, have 2.5 kids. Live regular," Dean scoffed, and Sam leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Sir…" He began in a deadly serious tone. "We don't want school, and we don't want regular. We want this," The truth rang in Sam's words, making me unsure whether he was talking about working at the carnival or about hunting. Mr. Cooper hesitated for only a moment more before nodding.

"What?" Sam questioned, glancing at us as we left Mr. Cooper's trailer.

"That whole 'I don't want to go back to school' thing - you just saying that to Cooper, or were you, you know, saying it?" My heart sunk as Sam didn't reply to Dean's words.

"Sam?" I prompted him, and he sighed.

"I don't know," He admitted.

"You don't know?" Dean echoed, and it was hard to ignore the undertone of excitement in his voice. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to wussy state," I hit Dean's arm, and he gave me his innocent expression.

"I'm having second thoughts," Sam confessed as we paused in our walk.

"What do you mean second thoughts?" I questioned, not sure whether to be happy he was staying or angry he was giving up on school.

"Yeah, I thin… Dad would've wanted me to stick with the job," Dean's expression dropped into one of frustration and annoyance.

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted?" Dean asked harshly. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam,"

"Since he died, okay?" Sam replied as if the answer was obvious. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," I answered for Dean, placing a hand on each of their chests and pushing them away from each other lightly. "No one has a problem," Dean didn't speak; he just turned and walked off.

-SPN-

"Can't remember the last time I was at a carnival," Dean reflected, his eyes dancing from one attraction to the next as the children laughed as they rode the carousel.

"Freshman year," I reminded him, grinning at the memory, and he laughed.

"You remember that?" I raised my eyebrows and looked at him incredulously.

"Are you kidding? You got us kicked out. It's hard to forget," I shook my head as he laughed again. For a moment, we were engulfed in a comfortable silence before Dean spoke again.

"Maybe I should win you one of those things," He jerked his chin towards one of the stuffed animals hanging on a wall behind a game. I had no doubt that Dean could win me something.

"If only we weren't working," He glanced at me with a grin before shrugging.

"Come on," He set his bag against the dumpster while I stared at him incredulously.

"What about the job?" We both knew I wasn't talking about our carnival janitors job.

"Screw the job. Sam's got it. We're here, let's enjoy it," He turned back to go, and I caught his arm, making him turn back to face me. What I didn't count on, was how close our faces would be when he turned. His eyes dropped to my lips, and he kissed me passionately. As much as I loved the feel of his lips on mine, I couldn't do this any longer. I pulled away and stepped back, frowning at him.

"What's wrong with you?" I couldn't hold in the question any longer, and Dean's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, that's not exactly the reaction I was hoping for," He smirked, but I couldn't even think about laughing right now. As much as I didn't want to believe it, something was wrong. Dean couldn't hold all that anger inside him forever, sooner or later it was going to kill him.

"Dean, I'm serious. You've been acting weird ever since…" I trailed off, not being able to finish the sentence.

"Go on, say it," I glared at Dean as he egged me on.

"Ever since John died," I obliged, and he looked away from me, grabbing his trash pick up device before going back to what we'd been doing.

"I'm fine," He brushed off my concern, picking up a piece of trash.

"Are you?" He met my eyes again, and his were dark and empty.

"Yes," He answered shortly, and I picked up a water bottle before making my way to the dumpster. Dean held it open while I emptied my bag into it, and then I did the same for him. Before I could say any more, his phone rang loudly. He flipped it open pressing it to his ear.

"Hello?" He answered.

_Hey, man. _Sam.

"What's the matter? You sound like you just saw a clown," Dean chuckled into the phone, and I frowned. It was almost as if we'd never had the previous conversation at all.

_Very funny. Skeleton, actually._ He admitted, making me crack a small smile.

"Like a real, human skeleton?" Dean questioned, back to business, and I immediately tensed.

_In the funhouse_. His explanation made me smile a bit. _Listen, I was thinking what if the spirit isn't attached to an object? What if it's attached to its own remains?_

"Did the bones give off EMF?" Dean asked as I walked along beside him, heading towards the funhouse.

_Well, no, but-_

"We should check it out anyway. I'm heading to you," Suddenly, a man caught my arm, and I whirled, my hand automatically reaching back for the switch in my pocket.

"What are you doing here, kid?" It was the blind man from earlier.

"Maintenance," I answered easily as Dean pulled me back, away from the man, who now released my arm.

"Bull," He called me out. "And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?" I couldn't help but be impressed with this guy's hearing. It was almost as good as mine.

"Dude, your blind-man hearing is out of control," I smacked Dean on the arm. We didn't have time for another episode like in the tent earlier.

"We're a tight-knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems," The man explained defensively.

"We got a problem?" Dean questioned him, rolling his eyes even though the man couldn't see.

"You tell me. You're the one talking about human bones," An idea came to me as the man talked skeptically.

"Do you believe in the supernatural?" Dean turned his eyes on me incredulously.

"What?" The blind man asked in shock.

"Ghosts, demons, all that stuff. Me, my boyfriend, and his brother… we are going to write a mystery novel about them. This one's going to be about a clown, but the catch is that he is a phantom. He murders couples, but leaves the kid unharmed," I went on to explain everything about the clown we were hunting, knowing he'd hear the truth of my words and believe me. For a moment, there was no change, and then the man's face broke into a grin.

"Well, why didn't you say so. We love writers here," I smiled, though he couldn't see me, and Dean and I got out of there as fast as we could, hurrying towards the funhouse.

"What took you guys so long?" Sam inquired impatiently as we reached him.

"Long story," Dean spoke, a bit out of breath.

"Mommy, look at the clown," My eyes snapped to the little girl that had spoken. I walked towards the small girl with pigtails who was pointing in between two trailers.

"What clown?" Her mother asked her, and I stopped when I could see what she was pointing to. Thin air. "Come on, sweetie. Come on," The woman led her daughter away from the trailer.

"It's them," I told Sam and Dean with absolute conviction.

"You're sure?" Sam checked, and I nodded. It was crazy, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that family was in jeopardy tonight.

"Yeah,"

* * *

><p>"Mel, I cannot believe you told Papasian about the homicidal phantom clown," Sam admonished me, and I glanced at him from where I was sitting in the passenger's seat.<p>

"I only told him an urban legend about one. It's not like he believed me," I pointed out, returning my gaze to the house that contained the child from earlier. "Keep that down, so they can't see it," I added to Dean, who had just held up his gun right beside the minivan's window.

"Oh, and get this. She mentioned the Bunker Brothers' Circuis in '81, and their evil-clown apocalypse. Guess what?" Dean grinned at Sam.

"What?" He asked warily.

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper carnival, he worked for the Bunker Brother's. He was their lot manager," Dean explained while I kept my attention on the family inside the house.

"So you two think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam summarized, and I bit my lip. Something was off, like there was still a piece missing.

"No," I shook my head, and Sam glanced at me. "I don't know. I'm not so sure it's a spirit anymore,"

"Well, what else could it be?" Sam asked, and I could only shake my head helplessly.

"I can't believe we keep talking about clowns," Dean grumbled, and I couldn't help but agree with him. It was one of the weirder cases we'd worked. We waited another few minutes, and I started growing tired so I rested my head against Dean's shoulder and fell asleep.

"Hey!" I jerked up as Sam hit my shoulder, and my first thought was of the house. A light was on in the living room, and I shook Dean awake as well. The small child opened the door with a big smile on her face as she held out her hand.

"Want to come in and play?" I heard her ask the clown, who stood on her porch. It nodded it's head and accepted her hand, allowing her to pull him inside. Dean, Sam, and I were out of the car in record time, and I ran around the house to the back where there was a window open. Slipping inside was second nature to me, and I positioned myself against the wall where the child was leading the creature. I would grab her and shield her while Dean and Sam blew the thing to smithereens. They came into view and I snatched the girl up as she screamed, covering her head with my hands as I heard the loud gunshots.

"Mel, watch out!" My head snapped up just in time to see the clown take a step towards me. Dean cocked the gun and aimed it again, apparently causing the clown to rethink his next move. He jumped through the window, disappearing a moment before the glass shattered and a plant fell over on the porch.

"What's going on in here?" A man's voice yelled gruffly, coming into the room. I swore softly, releasing the girl, who was probably traumatized for life.

"What are you doing to my daughter? Get the hell away from her!" Dean grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet, and I sprinted after him and Dean to the car. We drove as far away as we could and parked in the bushes where no one would find the car. It was dawn already by the time we abandoned the car and covered our tracks. Dean zipped the license plate into one of the duffles before slamming the trunk closed.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam questioned as I shouldered my duffel, and we started walking.

"Do you really want to take the chance?" I returned the question, and Sam considered it for a moment.

"Besides, I hate this freaking thing anyway," We walked for about a mile before Dean spoke again. "Well, one thing's for sure,"

"What's that?" Sam prompted, glancing back the way we'd come.

"We're not hunting a spirit," I answered for Dean, knowing where his head was at. "Rock salt barely slowed it down,"

"Yeah, a person," Sam suggested. "Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?"

"Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?" I shook my head, and Dean sighed. "Who are you calling?" I glanced at Sam to see he had his phone out and was dialing.

"Maybe Max or Ellen will know something," Sam offered. It was a good idea. "Hey, you think, uh… you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way," Dean denied instantly, and I glanced between the two brothers, deciding to just stay out of this one.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" Sam brought up a fair point, and Dean shrugged, not caring what evidence their was to the contrary.

"I don't know. Maybe they had some sort of falling out," Well, that part was true judging by her voicemail.

"Yeah, funny how John had a falling out with pretty much everyone he met," Sam chuckled at my words, and he pressed the phone to his ear before taking it away and hanging up.

"Well, don't get all Maudlin on me, man," Sam told him, and Dean's eyes flicked to him sharply, causing a resigned sigh to escape my lips. Great. Just what we needed to pass the time.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean this strong silent thing of yours, it's crap. I'm over it and so is Mel," Dean glanced at me, but I couldn't meet his eyes so instead I looked out over the farm fields. "This isn't just anyone we're talking about. This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man,"

"You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want-" Dean began in annoyance.

"That isn't what he means, Dean," I finally spoke up, joining the conversation that was quickly becoming an argument. Dean let out a groan.

"Not you too," He complained.

"We don't care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man," Sam tried getting back to the topic that was worrying both of us, but Dean just kept walking. "Listen, we're your family, alright? We just want to make sure you're okay,"

"Dude, I'm okay! I'm okay! Okay? I swear the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues. Quit dumping them on me,"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, and they stopped walking, forcing me to pause with them.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, 'oh, what would Dad want me to do?'. Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late," I shoved him back with both hands, standing in front of Sammy. All of a sudden, I was furious with Dean.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped at him angrily.

"I just want him to be honest with himself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death, is he?" He yelled before turning his gaze to Sam's face. "Are you?"

"Dean, stop it!" Everything went deadly silent after that, and I slowly looked up at Sam's eyes, shining with unshed tears.

"I'm going to go call Ellen," He told us, struggling to keep the waver out of his voice, but we could all hear it. He turned and walked off without glancing back.

"What the hell was that?" Dean scoffed at my words.

"You're one to talk, Mel. You've barely said two words about the demon or hunting it since that night," Dean snarled at me, and I glared back at him. "When someone else dies, it's devastating, but when it comes to sacrificing yourself, who the hell cares right?" I flinched back at his biting words.

"You don't know what you're talking about," My voice had dropped to a quiet denial, and he scoffed again.

"Rakshasa," Sam returned at that moment, and I blinked back the emotions that were building in my throat.

"Which is?" I prompted, shoving the emotions back down and resuming a cold, collected demeanor.

"Ellen and Max's best guess," Sam answered. "It's a race of ancient hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,"

"So they dress up like clowns, and children invite them in," Dean pieced together. "Why don't they just munch on the kids,"

"Maybe not enough meat? There'd be no point?" I suggested, facing Sam. "What else did she say?"

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects," I made a face at that, but it might work in our favor. That couldn't be too hard to find. "And they have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years - slow metabolism, I guess,"

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81," Dean listed.

"Right, and most likely more before that," I figured; an idea coming to me. "And who do we know for a fact worked both shows?"

"Cooper?" Dean phrased it like a question but all three of us knew it wasn't. There was no one else it could be.

"You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him," Sam pointed out.

"You think maybe it was?" Dean offered, and the thought chilled me.

"Never know. If it is him, he could be thousands of years old," I didn't look at Dean as I added to his statement before refocusing on Sam. "Ellen mention how to kill it?"

"Legend goes a dagger made of pure brass," Sam answered, and I thought for a minute.

"I think I know where to get one of those," I turned my eyes on Dean in surprise.

"Well before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we want to make damn sure it's him," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy," Dean teased his brother fondly, and Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"All right, you get the blade. Sam and I will check if Cooper's sleeping on dead crawlers," I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, and I didn't meet Dean's eyes as we continued walking.

We reached the carnival just as it was closing, and Sam and I crept silently over to Cooper's trailer. It was easy to avoid people if you just kept to the shadows. That and the fact that we were both wearing too big red windbreakers that showed we were part of the cleaning crew kept us out of trouble. I leaned against the side, picking the lock casually as if it were something I did everyday, which it was. The lock clicked and the door swung open, allowing Sam and me to sneak inside. We knelt beside the bed, and I pulled out the switch blade from my back pocket, flipping it open.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cooper was behind us, and I moved fast, jamming the knife into his bed, but keeping it out of view.

"U-Um… w-we were just…" I trailed off, making my cheeks go red, a trick I'd learned back when I was seventeen. Cooper's mistrusting look cleared as it became obvious what I was implicating.

"Get out," He ordered, and Sam and I were halfway out the door when I was hit with a _very_ bad feeling. I stumbled forward and felt Sam's arms around me, guiding me to the right, away from the trailer.

"Dean," I heard the thunk of a knife hitting wood. "It's the blind guy - Papasian," The feeling passed, and I began to run, somehow knowing Dean was in danger.

"Hey!" Sam called as Dean ran past us. Dean whirled, almost falling as he short stopped.

"You're okay," I breathed, throwing myself at him and hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him.

"So, Cooper thinks Mel's cheating on you, but it's not him," Sam informed him, and he glanced at me questioningly for a moment before looking back at Sam. Dean looked freaked.

"It's the blind guy, isn't it?" I asked, and Dean didn't bother questioning how I knew that. He just took a step down the road towards where he came from, making sure no one had followed him.

"Yeah. He's here somewhere," He answered breathlessly, keeping his arms around my waist.

"Well, did you get the-" Sam started.

"Brass blades? No. It's just been one of those days," Dean told us, looking around in paranoia.

"I got an idea. Come on," Sam ran off, leaving Dean and I no choice but to follow. He hurried into the funhouse with Dean and I on his tail. We were about halfway through when the hallway suddenly closed, separating Dean from Sam and me.

"Mel! Sam!" I could hear his muffled shouts from the other side of the wall.

"Dean!" I yelled, but I knew we wouldn't be able to get the door open.

"Dean, find the maze, okay?" There was no reply to Sam's yell, and we could only pray that he heard.

"Come on," I pulled Sam away from the wall. Dean would be fine. "We have to keep going. It's trying to mess with our heads," I kept a hold on Sam's jacket, so the creature couldn't separate us. I saw the organ in front of us. The _brass_ organ. "Here," I made a grab for it but jerked back when my hands made contact with the heat. Sam managed to grab it and yank one out.

"Hey," I whirled to see Dean coming through one of the entrances.

"Where is it?" Sam questioned as I pulled another brass pipe from the organ, leaving it to make an odd squeaking noise.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?" No sooner had Dean spoken than a knife came out of nowhere, pinning him to the wall. "Ow!" He let out a yelp as another one came of the air to pin his wrist to the wall. "Sam! Mel!" I ran to Dean, trying with one hand to get the knife out of the wall.

"Behind you!"I whirled just in time to raise the organ pipe and deflect a knife that was headed straight for my heart. I glanced up and grinned, stretching to turn the handle in the right corner above Dean. Fog started pouring into the room, making it hard to see much of anything except that dark shape behind Sam. Without pausing to think, I hurled my organ pipe as if it were a throwing knife. It slammed into the creatures stomach, and it let out an agonized howl. Sam turned, driving the organ deeper into his stomach as Dean turned off the fog. He let go of the organ pipe and it clattered to the floor along with it's clothes. I helped free Dean before we went to stand by Sammy and look down at the clothes on the ground. "I hate funhouses," Dean muttered, and I couldn't' agree more.

* * *

><p>"You three did a hell of a job. John would've been proud," Ellen set down four beers in front of us, for Max had just took a seat next to us, Jo leaning on the bar next to him. Ellen disappeared back inside the kitchen, and Max and Jo drifted off to a booth near the back. I couldn't help listening into their conversation; I was curious.<p>

"So, am I going to see you again?" She asked, and I could hear the hope in her voice, which made me smile.

"Is that what you want?" He questioned, and my smile widened as I heard the undertone of hope in his voice as well.

"I wouldn't hate it," She replied before continuing after a moment of silence. "Let me guess, wrong place, wrong time?" He chuckled and she joined in.

"Something like that,"

"Where you guys been? I been waiting for you," Ash came out of his room, and I stopped paying attention to Max and Jo, instead focusing on Ash.

"We've been working a job, Ash," Sam reminded him. "Clowns…?"

"Clowns? What the-?" He started.

"Do you have something for us or not?" I interrupted the profanity he had been about to spill out.

"I sure do," He set his wire-filled device down on the table.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam questioned, and a chill went up my spine at the mention of it. Dean had been right. I hated to even think about what I did.

"It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find, but if this fugly bastard raises it's head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie,"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, and I was curious to know how his device worked as well.

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm," He turned what I think was a laptop around to face us.

"You mind?" Dean reached for the keys, and Ash fixed him with a look that could've froze water. Dean's hand retreated slowly.

"What's up, man?" Ash asked in a high pitched voice that made me press my lips together to keep from laughing.

"Where'd you pick up these skills?" I admired the computer, not caring that I was obviously impressed.

"M.I.T., before I got bounced for fighting," He explained.

"M.I.T.?" Sam questioned skeptically, glancing at Dean and I to see if we believed him.

"It's a school in Boston," Ash patronized, and I laughed outright at that.

"Okay, give us a call as soon as you know something?" Dean checked, and Ash grinned.

"Sí, Sí, Compadre," Dean, Sam, and I got up, and Dean took one last swig of his beer before setting it down on the table. We headed towards the door with Max.

"Hey, listen," Ellen's voice made us turn. "If you four need a place to stay, I got a couple of beds out back," She wasn't just offering us a couple of beds, she was offering us a home. I could tell by the look in her eye and the tone of her voice.

"Thanks, but no," Dean replied, smiling not unkindly at her. "There's something I got to finish," I followed Dean out the door, and we got into the car that didn't have a license plate any longer, driving back to Bobby's. As soon as we got there, Dean went back out to fix his car, and I stayed to unpack my stuff.

"He was right," I glanced up at Sam, who was standing in the doorway to Dean and my room, before sighing heavily.

"Sam, like I said, everyone deals in their own way," I'd held Sam right after John had died. I'd held him as he sobbed for the Dad he'd never see again. I never wanted to see him like that ever again.

"So how are you dealing?" The question threw me, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "You know, ever since the hospital I don't think i've seen you cry once. John was as much a dad to you as he was to Dean and I," My gaze dropped to the shirt I'd been folding.

"I don't know, Sam. People die, and life goes on. You can choose to be part of it, or you can choose to shut yourself off and stay stuck in the past. I can't afford to stay stuck in the past, Sam. If I do, it'll kill me," He studied my face for a moment before I finally set down the shirt. "Go talk to him, Sam. He has to snap out of it sooner or later," Sam left the doorway. After a minute or so, I went downstairs and out the door. I had to talk to Dean. I froze when I heard Sam talking ahead of me.

"But neither are you and neither is Mel. That much I know," I leaned on the car, choking back the emotions, and forcing myself into that calm stupor that I knew so well. Suddenly, I heard a resounding clang. I straightened and rounded the corner to see Dean smashing an iron stick into the Impala's window. I stopped a few feet away from the car as he began slamming the iron down on the Impala's trunk over and over again.

"Dean!" I yelled his name, not sure what else to do. His anger scared me beyond belief. The thing fell from his fingers, and he hung his head, leaning his hands on the trunk. I took a hesitant step forward, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he held me tightly as he shook with sobs. How would we ever be okay again?


	3. Bloodlust

****Hey! I know that this is a late update, but I hope you all love it. I've been pretty busy lately, so I'm sorry that this took so long. I'd love for everyone to review or PM and tell me what you think about it! Quick disclaimer: I really don't own any of the Supernatural characters (unfortunately). Anyway, this is actually my longest chapter ever, so enjoy! Thanks so much to JJS4, Ladysunshine6, and grapejuice101 for PMing me with ideas; you guys are great! Thanks to everyone who reads! Love all of you guys!****

_Bloodlust_

"Whoo!" I glanced at Dean and smiled as I saw the wide, excited grin on his face. It was our first ride in the fixed Impala that he'd just finished working on. "Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?"

"Careful, Dean. Mel might get jealous," I rumpled up a paper on my lap and twisted in my seat to throw it back at him, making him laugh.

"Oh, don't listen to him, babe. You know you're still first," He winked at me, and Sam and I exchanged a glance before erupting into laughter.

"Someone's happy today," I commented, smiling uncertainly. We were all in a surprisingly good mood; a better mood than we had been in for a while now.

"Why shouldn't I be?" He returned, turning from the road to fix his suddenly serious eyes on me as his tone turned somber.

"I don't know," I shrugged, not being able to shake the feeling that he was hiding something behind the good mood.

"I got my car, got a case, got my amazing girlfriend," He threw me another wink, which made me smile again. "Things are looking up," Sam let out a small laugh from the backseat.

"Wow. You hear of a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you're Mr. Sunshine," Dean and I laughed lightly at Sam's joking words.

"How far to Red Lodge?" Dean questioned, getting back to the matter at hand. The hunt. I was the one that had caught it in the newspapers; two severed heads along with some cow mutilations, and it was only a short drive from Bobby's.

"Should be around 320 miles," I informed him, my eyes dropping to survey the map in my hands briefly before flicking to Dean again. Dean's hand tightened on the wheel, and a smile overtook his lips again.

"Good," He revved the engine, and we accelerated. I didn't bother mentioning speeding, instead choosing to let him enjoy the repaired Impala.

* * *

><p>"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all that I can share with the press at this time," The heavyset, gruff looking sheriff with a mustache so big that I could barely see his lips was telling us from across the desk.<p>

"I know, but just fact checking here, you found the first head Wednesday of last week, right?" I paused, my eyes flicking up from the file I was holding to meet his darker ones as he let out a grunt and a nod. "Right, okay. The other one, belonging to Christina Flannigan-"

"Two days ago," He interrupted me with the correct information. There was a knock at the door, and I glanced back to see a young woman, who must've been his assistant, tapping her watch. "Oh, thank you," The sheriff nodded to her before turning back to us. "Sorry, time's up. We're done here,"

"Wait, one last question," Sam tried, but it didn't work; he was already rising from his black, leather seat.

"What about the cattle?" Dean asked before Sam could finish his thought. The sheriff fixed Dean with a hard look and a disbelieving frown.

"Excuse me?" He questioned, raising a bushy, white eyebrow.

"You know, the cattles found dead, split open, drained - over a dozen cases," Dean jogged his memory, but he still had that skeptical, incredulous look on his face.

"What about them?" He inquired.

"Well, don't you think it's possible that there is a connection between the beheadings and the cattle mutilations?" I questioned, not sure what to make of the fact that it hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Why would there be a connection?" Boy, this guy was dense. It was my turn to raise my eyebrows disbelievingly at the sheriff.

"Well, first cattle mutilations, now two murders. Kind of sounds like ritual stuff," Sam elaborated further as the sheriff leaned towards us.

"You know, like Satanic cult ritual stuff,' Dean added, hoping to get something out of the man. Well, he did succeed in getting_ something_ out of the man, but it wasn't what we'd intended. The sheriff started laughing, pointing at us as if we'd just told a very funny joke. I glanced at Dean uncertainly to see him looking just as miffed as I was by the man's unfounded amusement.

"You're not kidding," The sheriff realized, his laughter dying in his throat.

"No," Dean shook his head, his face a deadpan, and the man's finger dropped to the desk, his face growing serious with a hint of contempt, like we were the one's not knowing what was going on.

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You want to know how I know," I raised my eyebrows at his statement. Not seeing the connection was one thing, but to deny the fact that the cows were being mutilated even though it's right in front of you is a whole other animal.

"How?" Sam humored him.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within 48 hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, get soaked up, cause that's what gravity does, but, hey, it could be Satan," I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the man's explanation. Or both. "What newspaper did you say you worked for?"

"World Weekly News," Dean told him.

"Weekly World News," I corrected quickly, knowing that we should probably leave soon before we get kicked out.

"World - weekly-" Dean stammered, shaking his head, and I attempted to ignore how cute it was. "I'm new,"

"Get out of my office," The sheriff annunciated every syllable, and I stood without having to be told twice, pulling Dean up with me.

"Yes, sir," We walked out of the police department without a glance backwards. Our next stop was the morgue, and it took all of three minutes to commandeer three lab coats that we slipped over our current, formal attire. We walked into the morgue, seeing the man that was standing in the room, who was also in a white lab coat.

"Jared," I greeted the man, taking a guess at what the J stood for one his name tag that read J. Manners.

"Jeff," He corrected, still grinning widely at me as I stepped forward with a welcoming smile.

"Jeff, right, sorry. I'm not myself today," I shook my head slightly to emphasize my point. "Dr. Dorkin is waiting for you in his office right now. He said it was urgent," Jeff's eyebrows drew together in confusion at my statement.

"But Dr. Dorkin's on vacation," He told us, and I silently cursed my luck.

"Well, if he's in there and yelling for you, then clearly he's back," I used a tone that told him that should've been obvious. "I mean, if I were you…" I didn't have to finish that thought, for the man was already out the door, which Sam shut behind him.

"Hey, those Satanists from Florida - they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean questioned Sam and me as he approached the bodies

"Yeah, reverse pentacle on the forehead," Sam remembered as I handed Dean a pair of latex gloves and then did the same to Sam before putting them on.

"So much F'ed up crap happens in Florida," I broke a smile at his assessment before opening the door and pulling out the metal sheet where the body was lying. Between her feet sat the white box that contained her head. "Alright, open it," Dean instructed, glancing at Sam as he put on the other glove.

"You open it," I rolled my eyes at the two brothers before coming to stand in front of the box.

"I'll open it," The box was surprisingly light when I picked it up and set it down on a table. I removed the lid carefully, revealing grey skin and sunken eyes that made me grimace in disgust. "There's no pentagram," I noted as Dean and Sam came to stand beside me.

"Wow. Poor girl," Sam muttered, clearly trying to fight his gag reflex at the sight of the severed head.

"Yeah," I agreed softly before getting an idea. "We should check her mouth. Sometimes something's shoved down the throat. Remember Phoenix?" I recalled the case that we'd worked on a few years back.

"Right, like the moth in 'Silence of the Lambs'," Dean punched Sam's shoulder lightly, and I cracked a small, strained smile.

"You go ahead," Sam spun the box to face Dean, who shook his head and spun it back to face his brother.

"No, you go ahead," Sam frowned, looking at him.

"What?" He asked sharply. Sam didn't particularly like dead bodies.

"'Put the lotion in the basket'," I grinned at Dean's impersonation, and Sam glanced at me.

"What about you?" Sam looked down at me, making me shrugged at him, not very eager to stick my hand in some dead girl's mouth.

"I opened the box," I reminded him innocently, and he rolled his eyes before reaching into her mouth and feeling around.

"Mel, can you get me a bucket?" Sam asked, and I straightened, glancing down at his hands.

"What'd you find?" I questioned curiously only to have Sam shake his head.

"No, I'm gonna puke," Sam was turning pale and green around the edges, which made me send him a look and nudge him lightly. I refocused on the dead woman's mouth, and that's when something caught my eye.

"Wait, lift her lip up again," Dean seemed to have seen it too, and we both leaned towards the head, ignoring the look Sam shot us.

"What?" He asked incredulously with a tinge of disgust. "You want me to throw up, is that it?"

"No, no, no. I think I saw something," Dean lifted up the edge of her lip, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. I watched in anticipation as he pulled it up farther so we could see the hole that sat above her canine tooth. "What is that, a hole?"

"It's a tooth," Sam realized as I pushed the space besides the hole, making a hooked tooth emerge from the hole.

"No, it's a fang," I stated, taking my hand away and allowing the tooth to slide back into the hole. "A vampire fang… Oh, my god," I breathed as Dean let her lip fall, and we straightened.

"Well, this changes things," Sam stated the obvious, making Dean and I both turn to look at him with a 'no duh' expression.

"You think?" Dean asked sarcastically, but I didn't have time to make a joke about Sam's stating of the obvious. I was too focused on what this meant for us. We might be dealing with another hunter here.

"We should go to the local bar tonight. Vampires are usually rowdy, so they'll probably be there," I reasoned logically, focused on the case. Sam and Dean nodded in agreement.

_-San Francisco, California 1995-_

_"Dean, come on. You have a D in algebra," I tried to reason with my stubborn boyfriend, who rolled his eyes at my concern. "You have to at least try to study for the test tomorrow,"_

_"What's the point?" He argued, shrugging lightly with a grin on his face. "We're only going to move schools in a couple of days anyway," I sighed at his logic._

_"You still have to try," I flipped through the textbook that was lying in front of us on the bed until I found the right chapter. "Here, concentrate,"_

_"How can I concentrate when I have a beautiful girl right next to me?" I tried fight the blood rushing to my cheeks, and I hit him lightly in the chest._

_"Stop it," I admonished him, looking down at the book so he couldn't see the small smile that had wormed its way onto my lips._

_"Stop what?" He inquired innocently, making me roll my eyes and smile wider._

_"Distracting me," He laughed, which made me look up at him with a mock glare that I couldn't hold._

_"I'm not distracting you; you're distracting me," He turned the tables on me, and I smiled as an idea struck me. Two could play at this game. I turned my head to gaze up into his eyes, fluttering my eyelashes lightly, and his face lost its cocky smile as his eyes dropped to my lips that were inches from his own. He leaned down, but just as he did, I leaned back, making him pause._

_"Do problem three," I let out a small, breathy laugh, and his lips twitched into a mischievous smile._

_"What do I get if I get it right?" He questioned, which made my smile widen._

_"I guess you'll have to get it right to find out," I answered ambiguously, and he turned to the book, his brow furrowing in thought as he regarded the problem. After a moment, he grabbed the notebook and began writing out the steps, and half a minute later, he handed me the notebook with the right answer circled._

_"Now, what do I get?" I grinned as I set the notebook down and reached up to press my lips against his soft ones. I smiled into the kiss as we fell back on the bed, his tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. He slid his hands up my shirt, his cool fingers brushing against my skin, making it tingle._

_"What the hell is going on?" A gruff, furious voice boomed from the doorway made Dean and I jerk apart and sit up straight. John Winchester was standing just inside the door, his face twisted in rage as he took in what had been happening. Dean scrambled off the bed, and I hurriedly fixed my shirt as I pressed my back against the bed frame, wishing that I could disappear into it. "Explain yourselves!" John bellowed, making Dean and I jump badly._

_"I - w-we were just-" Dean stammered, groping for an excuse to cover what we'd been doing. "Mel was teaching me math-"_

_"Teaching you math? It sure as hell didn't look like she was teaching you math!" John yelled at his son, who flinched back as if his dad had smacked him across the face._

_"John, it wasn't his fault-" I began, hating to see Dean get yelled at for something we'd both done._

_"Stay out of this, Melody!" I winced at the use of my full name._

_"But-" I had to try; I couldn't just say nothing._

_"Just shut up!" John snapped at me, making my eyes widen. Never in sixteen years had he ever told me to shut up._

_"Don't talk to her like that!" My eyes widened further as Dean stood up to John. He grabbed my arm and pulled me off the bed and behind him as he glared at John._

_"I'll talk to her however the hell I want to! She is going back to Jimmy, and you are going to do exactly what I tell you to!" John shouted at his son, and my heart froze. John was going to tell my dad he couldn't take me anymore._

_"No! Pl-" I started only to have John turn a harsh glare on me._

_"Pack your bags," Was all John said before turning his glower on Dean._

_"You can't-" Dean began, but John didn't care._

_"I can, and I will! Be prepared to leave by morning," He directed the last part at me before slamming the door behind him as he stalked out. I pressed my back against the wall and sunk down to the floor, trembling like a leaf; I was leaving._

I blinked out of the memory as we walked into the bar and headed towards the counter where a gruff looking man was serving a couple young women. He turned to us expectantly as we approached.

"How's it going?" Dean asked, grinning cockily at the bartender.

"Living the dream," He replied sarcastically with a wink at me before returning to drying the glasses, and I felt Dean's arm tighten. "What can I get for you?"

"Three beers, please," I answered, smiling easily at the man, who nodded and turned to get the already dry glasses out of the cabinet.

"So, we're looking for some people," Sam began, getting down to business as we sat down.

"Sure. It's hard to be lonely," The man replied with a quizzical glance at Dean and I.

"Yeah, but, um, that's not what I meant," Sam replied, setting a fifty on the counter. The bartender picked it up greedily, and Sam took that as a green light. "Great. So, these people would've moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink,"

"Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day. Party all night," Dean added while I watched the man's reaction closely. When Sam had started to describe the type of people we were looking for, he'd tensed ever so slightly before relaxing.

"Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago - real winners. They've been in here a lot - drinkers, noisy. I had to 86 them once or twice," I exchanged a glance with Dean; looks like we found our vampires. All at once, I got the odd feeling we were being watched, and I threw a short glance over my shoulder to see nothing out of the ordinary.

"Thanks for your time," I thanked the man distractedly before leading the boys out of the bar. We walked down the street, and I heard footsteps following us. "Someone's following us," My voice was barely audible, but I knew both boys had heard it. We turned down an alley before speeding up our walk to a jog and turning the second corner, which only left us two feet of room for us to hide behind the wall. I ended up pressed between Dean and Sam as I concentrated on the footsteps slowly coming towards the corner. They paused, and I peaked around the corner to see the tall, dark-skinned man looking backwards. We seized the opportunity to sneak up behind him. When he turned back, Dean and Sam grabbed him, slamming him against the wall of the house while I pressed a blade to his neck with a hand on his chest.

"Smile, leech," I ordered, leaving no room for him to argue.

"What?" He questioned, sounding miffed.

"Show us those pearly whites," Dean made our meaning a bit more clear to the man.

"Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else. I'm not a vampire," He told us plainly, his eyes dropping to the knife that I was pressing to his throat. I didn't oblige. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there,"

"What do you know about vampires?" Sam demanded, and I waited impatiently for him to respond. I already didn't like him. He gave me a bad feeling.

"How to kill them," He answered shortly. "Now, seriously that knife's making me itch," He began to move, and Sam slammed his shoulder harder into the wood of the house while I pressed the blade against his neck more firmly. "Whoa, easy there, chachi," He raised his open hand, that had no weapon whatsoever, and pulled up his lip to show us the lack of holes in his gums. He wasn't a vampire. "See? Fangless. Happy?" Reluctantly, I withdrew the blade from his neck and stood back. "Now, who the hell are you?"

_30 Minutes Later_

"Sam and Dean Winchester," The hunter, whose name we had found out was Gordon, mused as he opened the door. "And Melody Scott," He added, glancing back at me interestedly from where he was fiddling with something in the driver's seat. He slid out a metal sheet filled with hunter's weapons. "I can't believe it. You know, I met your old man once - hell of a guy, great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry," I felt a dull throb go through my chest at the mention of John. I'd been suppressing the stab of pain until it was now just a dull throb whenever I heard John's name. "Met your dad, too, you know," I faked a smile as Gordon turned his dark eyes on me. "He was really something. Big shoes to fill, but, from what I hear, you guys fill them - great trackers, good in a tight spot,"

"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean's voice was laced with mistrust as he studied the man before us warily. He seemed trustworthy enough, but for some reason, something kept tugging at my brain. I didn't like him; I didn't know why I didn't, but I didn't.

"World travels fast. You know how hunters talk," I frowned at that. Was there some newsletter that we weren't signed up for?

"No, we don't actually," Dean muttered in annoyance.

"I guess there's a lot your dads never told you, huh?" I stiffened at the mention of my father but forced myself to relax. Being openly hostile towards another hunter didn't bode well for anyone.

"So, you killed the two vamps, then?" I checked, making sure we had the right guy.

"Yep, been here two weeks," Gordon sounded proud as he talked about his beheadings.

"Did you check out that Barker Farm?" Dean questioned, and Gordon nodded.

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill someone with that Patchouli smell alone," Gordon cracked a joke, but no one laughed. It was too serious to laugh at.

"Did you find the nest?" I asked, getting impatient with his arrogance. In response to his question, he smiled patronizingly and looked down at the floor before back up at us.

"I got this one covered," He told us, pushing the metal sheet back into where it had been hidden in his car. "Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meeting you fellas, but I've been on this thing for over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it,"

"We could help," Dean offered, and I glanced at him apprehensively; he'd been desperate for a hunt since we'd finished the clown job. My mind skirted away from the thought of the clown hunt; I didn't want to think of that.

"Thanks, but, uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy," Gordon explained tightly.

"I've been itching for a hunt," Dean tried to convince him, but Gordon just shook his head.

"Sorry, but, hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out," I smiled without any mirth as he got into his car and slammed the door behind him. "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side," Just like that, he drove off.

"So, we find another hunt?" I questioned hopefully, turning to the two boys. I was eager to get out of this town and as far away from Gordon as physically possible.

"No," One glance at Dean's determined face told me all I needed to know. We were going after the vampires. We followed Gordon to an abandoned shipping dock, and snuck after him as he headed towards the water. "We stay out of sight unless he's in trouble," Dean reminded us as we crept through the shadows and watched Gordon confront the vampire. From what I could see, Gordon was getting his ass handed to him. There was a mechanical whirring sound and a long, chainsaw looking object was turned on. The vampire punched Gordon a few times before grabbing the object and bringing it down on his neck. Before he could slice the man head off, Sam grabbed his feet and pulled him out from under it.

I snatched an iron rod off the wall and swung it at the vamp, hearing a solid thud as it connected with his abdomen. Next, I slammed it into his chin, causing it to jerk upward and for him to stagger back. Dean swung the harpoon he'd picked up into the man's face, making his head snap sideways and disorienting him. The vampire fell onto the board below the saw that was still whirring, and Dean raised the harpoon, jamming it down into the vampire's stomach and pinning him to the board. The thing howled in agony, making me take a step back and wince at the horror of the sound. Dean punched the thing across the face twice before reaching up for the saw and beheading it. Blood spattered Dean's face as the thunk and slosh of bone and veins being cut through filled the air and made me turn away in disgust. Finally, Dean pulled up the cutter, and I focused on his grim features as he fixed his eyes on me.

"So, uh, I guess I got to buy you that drink," I tore my eyes from Dean's to study Gordon, who was looking anything but repulsed by Dean's work.

* * *

><p>I set my drink down on the table after a few sips, not really in the mood for a drink. Dean set his down as well and started reaching into his pocket, but Gordon waved a hand at him.<p>

"No, no, I got it," He counted out the bills as Dean shook his head.

"Come on," He disagreed, but Gordon held up a finger.

"I insist," He declared, which left none of us any room to argue. He set the bills down on the waitress's tray. "Thank you, sweetheart," He told her, barely even glancing at the young woman. Hesitantly, I picked up my shot and held it up next to Gordon and Dean's. "Another one bites the dust," Gordon's words were a sorry excuse for a toast.

"Yeah," The syllable was less than convincing, but it seemed to work for we all took the shot except Sam, who I could tell was as skeptical about this new guy as I was.

"Dean," Gordon began, pausing to chuckle a bit. "You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend. That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful,"

"Yep," Dean agreed, grinning as he drank his beer while Sam and I sat in silence. "You two alright?" Dean regarded us with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah, great," I managed to fake a smile convincingly, knowing it wasn't a smart idea to voice my concerns about Gordon's trustworthiness in front of him. "Sammy," I prompted, nudging him when he didn't reply.

"Yeah, fine," He answered begrudgingly.

"Well, lighten up a little, Sammy," Sam and I both stiffened at Gordon's use of his nickname, as if he was part of the family all ready.

"They're the only ones who get to call me that," Sam spoke stoically to him, which seemed to take Gordon by surprise.

"Okay," He agreed, his eyes flicking to me and then Dean uncertainly before back at Sam. "No offense meant. Just celebrating a little - job well done,"

"Right, well, um, decapitations aren't really my idea of a good time, I guess," Sam told him stiffly, and Gordon looked down, nodding slightly.

"Oh, come on, man, it's not like it was human. You got to have more fun with your job," Gordon tried to reason with him, but his reasoning only worked to anger me more.

"See, that's what Mel and I've been trying to tell him," We had been trying to get Sam to have a bit more fun, but I wasn't sure Gordon was the shining role model that Dean seemed to think he was. "You could learn a thing or two from this guy," Sam's eyes flicked to me, and I could tell he read the caution in mine.

"Yeah, I bet I could," He agreed, thankfully not starting an argument. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel," He began to rise.

"You sure?" Dean asked, rubbing his eye tiredly. It was one of the moments that I could see clearly how exhausted we all were and how much of a toll John's death had taken on us.

"Yeah," Sam glanced at me. "Mel?" My eyes flicked to Dean briefly before I stood as well.

"Yeah, I'll go with you," Dean sighed heavily at my answer, but I couldn't stand staying here with Gordon any longer.

"Mel, come on," Dean started.

"I'm tired anyway. I'll see you back at the motel," I gave him a kiss that was meant as a goodbye peck on the lips but lingered a little longer. "Don't drive," I reminded him, holding up the keys that I'd swiped from his pocket when we'd kissed, which made him grin in amusement.

"Hey, beat the buzzkill out of Sammy for me, would you?" My mouth twitched in a smile that disappeared as I shot Gordon one last mistrusting look before I followed Sam out the door.

-3rd Person-

"Something I said?" Gordon questioned as he watched Mel and Sam walk out the door without a glance backwards at the two still at the table. He didn't need a hunter's intuition to know that they didn't like him.

"No, no," Dean shook his head with a sigh. "Sam just gets that way sometimes,"

"And what about your girlfriend?" Gordon prompted, turning from the door to face Dean again. "She doesn't seem to like me very much either,"

"Tell you what," Dean ignored his prompt, looking down at his drink. "Match quarters for the next round," Gordon readily agreed. After four more rounds of shots, the two began trading hunting stories.

"So I picked up this crossbow, and I hit that ugly sucker - silver tipped arrow right in his heart," Dean remembered the hunt where he'd killed his first werewolf. "Sammy's waiting in the car, and me, Mel, and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there, and I look over at Mel, and I'm thinking to myself, 'We're sixteen years old. Kids our age are worried about pimples and prom dates. We're seeing things that they'll never even know, never even dream of.' So right then, I just sort of-"

"Embraced the life?" Gordon supplied Dean with the words, and Dean nodded in agreement, his mind still eleven years back. He blinked out of his memory and focused on the hunter sitting opposite him.

"How'd you get started?" He questioned, and Gordon's face lost all semblance of happiness.

"First time I was a vampire, I was barely eighteen, home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grabbed my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. It was too late. So I shoot the damn thing, which, of course, is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone… my sister's gone," Gordon gazed at the table, a far away look in his eyes as he spoke.

"And then?" Dean prompted, trying not to sound too eager for the rest of the tale.

"Then…" Gordon hesitated briefly before continuing. "Try explaining that one to your family. So I left home… and then bummed around looking for information - how you track them, how you kill them. And I found that fang. It was my first kill,"

"Sorry about your sister," Dean raised his glass to Gordon before drinking some more of his beer.

"Yeah," He agreed sorrowfully. "She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know, the way she was," Gordon drank from his glass, and Dean's mind flicked to Sammy and Mel. He found himself wishing they hadn't left, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away by taking another swig of the beer. "But, hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad - it's got to be rough," Dean's eyes dropped to the floor, and he felt that familiar hole open up inside of him at the mention of his father.

"Yeah, you know, he was just one of those guys - took some terrible beatings - just kept coming. So you're always saying to yourself, 'he's indestructible. He'll always be around. Nothing can kill my dad.' And then just like that…" Dean snapped his fingers. "He's gone," He shook his head and forced a small chuckle. "I can't talk about this to Sammy. No, I got to keep my game face on,"

"What about your girlfriend, Melody?" Dean's mouth twitched, and he didn't meet Gordon's eyes when the man mentioned Mel. He took a deep breath and forced another chuckle.

"She's worried enough as it is," It was partially true. Dean knew Mel worried about him and Sam being okay after his dad's death, but he was just as worried about Mel. She hadn't cried since John had flatlined, and she barely mentioned his death or the demon unless absolutely necessary. He was worried about her, and it didn't help that every time he closed his eyes all he could see was her body lying on the floor a few feet away, her eyes boring into his. It didn't help that in every silence he heard her soft, broken voice whisper 'I love you' before her eyes shut for what he'd thought would be the last time.

"Dean?" His eyes snapped back to Gordon, who was looking at him with something close to concern in his eyes. He realized his knuckles had turned white from clutching the glass so tightly, and he slowly released it.

"Truth is, I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this-" Dean started slowly, needing to finally say it aloud.

"Hole inside you?" Dean's eyes snapped up at Gordon's guess. "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker?" Dean didn't reply, only nodded in shock. "Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me, there's plenty out there needs killing, and this will help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job," Dean took in the advice thoughtfully; it was different than Sam's or Mel's. "You know why I love this job?" Gordon went on after a moment of silence. "It's all black and white. you find the bad thing - kill it. Most people spend their lives in shades of grey. Is this right? Is that wrong? Not us,"

"Not sure Mel or Sammy would agree with you, but, uh…" Dean trailed off as he took another drink. His mind briefly flashed back to his father's last words to him, but he roughly shoved the thought away.

"Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us. Your girlfriend, too, although she's more like us than your brother," Dean stopped drinking, his eyes turning wary and protective as he regarded Gordon, who seemed to sense that he'd overstepped. "I'm not saying their wrong - just different. You and me, we were born to do this. It's in our blood," Dean couldn't argue.

-1st Person-

"I don't like him. He gives me a bad feeling," I felt childish saying the words, but they were the truth. I parked the car directly in front of our motel room, and Sam and I got out.

"What kind of feeling?" He questioned, and I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe how I felt when I looked at Gordon.

"When I look at him… I feel like I'm staring at… a murderer," I finished, only just realizing what I really felt. My eyes flicked to Sam to gauge his reaction, and almost immediately his eyes widened and he froze in his steps toward the room.

"Well," He began cautiously. "Of course he's killed before, he's a hunter. That's probably it," But then why didn't I feel that way when I looked at Sam or Dean? Or Max and Bobby? I knew a lot of hunters, and I'd never felt as if they were threatening my safety.

"Yeah, maybe," I agreed, deciding to let it slide for now as Sam opened the door to our room. They'd only had one vacancy, which meant that Sammy, Dean, and I were sharing one room for however long we were in this town for. "Would you mind calling Ellen or Bobby for me?" I tossed Sam the phone as I headed towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower," I ran the water as Sam dialed, and I left to grab some clothes before disappearing into it again. I focused my hearing on what Sam was saying as I worked on scrubbing the dirt off my skin.

_Harvelle's Roadhouse. _Ellen picked up the phone, and I heard Sam let out a small sigh.

"Hey, Ellen - Sam Winchester," He told her, sounding uncertain.

_Sam, it's good to hear from you. You three are okay, aren't you?_ A tinge of concern entered her voice, making my lips twitch up in a small grin.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. Got a question. You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" His voice gained a dark tone as he spoke the other hunter's name. Sammy felt it too. The darkness that hung over the man.

_Yeah, I know Gordon._ She replied nonchalantly, and I could hear the shrug in her words.

"And?" Sam prompted, eager for more information.

_ Well, he's a real good hunter. Why you asking, sweetie?_

"We ran into him on a job, and we're kind of working with him," Sam began to explain only to be cut off by a suddenly worried Ellen.

_Don't do that, Sam._

"I-I thought you said he was a good hunter," Sam stammered, confused at her sudden shift from indifference to cautious.

_Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good , he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job, you three just let him handle it and move on._

"Ellen-" Sam began, surprised at her urgent tone.

_No, Sam, you just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?_ She was nearly pleading with him now.

"Right, okay," I didn't bother listening to anymore of their conversation; I'd heard what I'd wanted to know. He wasn't a normal hunter. There was something off about him, something dangerous. I rinsed my hair before working conditioner through it, and my thoughts unexpectedly turned to John. There was an all too familiar throb in my heart, but I quickly turned my mind to something else before I could get too absorbed in my thoughts. John was gone and he wasn't coming back. All I could do now was focus on the present; Sam and Dean weren't handling it well. I stepped out of the shower and dried myself before throwing on dark blue skinny jeans and a grey tank top. I spent a brief two minutes drying my hair before stepping out of the bathroom.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" I nodded in answer to Sam's question before grabbing my key to the room and heading towards the door.

"We'll warn Dean when he gets back. I'm going to get a water. Do you want anything?" I questioned, glancing at him. I felt better knowing that we would be getting out of this town as soon as Dean came back.

"I'll come with you," He offered as I shrugged on my brown jacket, and in a few moments we were shutting the door behind us and making our way up the walkway to the soft drinks vending machine. I pushed the button for water, feeding the machine my money before Sam did the same, getting a coke. There was a sharp crack to our right, and my head whipped around to allow my eyes to scan the trees.

"Hurry up. Let's get out of here," I hit Sam's shoulder lightly as I spoke, and he grabbed the coke before joining me in walking back to the motel room. We were about halfway there before I heard another crackle behind us, and we stopped. Sam popped the soda open and drank some, but I knew he'd heard the noise too, despite his attempt to act otherwise.

"Come on. Let's just go back to the room," He suggested, quickening his pace and leaving me no choice but to follow him. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before getting the door open, and I couldn't help glancing backwards, scanning the parking lot for movement. I shut the door behind me and locked it for good measure. That was when I heard the crunch from inside the room. I spun just in time to grab the fist that had been directed at the back of my head, and I swung it sideways, causing my attacker to stumble. Taking advantage of the man's momentary instability, I rammed my knee into his gut, making the air rush out of him in a whoosh. As he turned his head to look up at me, trying to regain his balance, I slammed my elbow down on his face, sending him to the ground. My eyes found Sam, who had just punched another man to the ground. That was when I saw the figure behind him.

"Sam, behind you!" My warning came too late, for even as Sam spun, the man was already bringing the iron down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold. "Sam!" The man yanked his limp body up, and I started forward only to be hauled back by two burly men in their late forties.

"Bring her too," The man holding Sam ordered to the ones restraining my arms. Normally, I would've fought tooth and nail to get out of their arms, but they had Sam, which meant that I needed to stay with them. We were loaded into the trunk of a car, and the car began to move. There was barely any room in the trunk for Sam, let alone me as well. I ended up pressed against his chest, nearly on top of him during the thirteen minute car ride. A bag was over my head, prohibiting me from seeing anything, but I did count the turns and try to hear anything that might help us. After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally came to a complete stop, and I heard doors opening and closing. The light filtering through the bag grew brighter as the trunk was opened and we were dragged out and tied down in chairs. The bags were removed, and I saw burly, beefy man standing in front of us.

"Don't touch him," I snapped at the man, who'd taken a step towards Sam, his fanged teeth growing longer. He paused to turn to me and cock his head in surprise as he studied me interestedly. My eyes softened briefly as they flicked to Sam's still, limp form that was tied down to the chair before they returned to glower at our kidnapper. The creature stalked towards me, looming over me as his top lip curled up in an animalistic snarl.

"Wait! Step back, Eli," A female voice called from behind the man, who reluctantly obeyed her request. "My name's Lenore," She introduced herself, walking towards me with slow, measured steps. "I'm not gonna hurt you," I could hear the unwavering truth in her words, yet I still couldn't bring myself to trust them. She stopped in front of me as she continued. "We just need to talk,"

"Oh, is that what Eli was trying to do just then? Could've fooled me," Her only response to my quip was an amused twitch of her lips before she glanced back at Eli.

"He won't hurt you either. You have my word," She spoke to me calmly, facing me again, and my eyes flicked to Sam again. "He won't hurt the boy either," She promised, and my eyes returned to hers, a smirk on my lips.

"Well, that sure means a lot coming from my kidnapper," I sneered at her, deciding to cut the crap and get to the point. "Look, you know what I am, and I know what you are, Vampire," I spit the word at her like it was poison.

"We're not like the others," She told me, and my eyebrows raised in surprise at her statement. "We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time,"

"Yeah, right," I scoffed, not allowing myself to trust anything she said for even a moment.

"Notice, you're still alive," I opened my mouth to retort, but no sarcastic remark came out. There was really no valid response to that; she had a point.

"Fine, say, for argument's sake, that I believe you. How are you not dying of starvation?" I questioned, my gut telling me to trust her while my brain screamed not to.

"We found other ways - cattle blood," She explained, and all at once, it clicked in my brain.

"The mutations that we found in the newspaper," I realized as her story began to gain believability. "That was you,"

"It's not ideal. In fact, it's disgusting, but it allows us to get by," She looked at me steadily, waiting for me to form a response, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

"How do I know you won't kill me anyways?" I asked, glancing at Sammy and then back to her.

"Cut her bonds," She ordered Eli, who stared at her in shock. "Do it," She turned back to me as he went around to untie my wrists. "We'll let you take care of your friend," She jerked her chin at an unconscious Sam just as the ropes restraining my wrists snapped. I rose and quickly crossed to Sam's chair, cradling his face between my fingers. I wasn't dumb enough to think that they would allow me to untie him, but I would take whatever I could get at this point. I just had to make sure he was alright. He let out a moan, his eyes fluttering open to fix on my own.

"Mel!" He jerked in his seat, looking around wildly. His gaze landed on Lenore, and his eyes instantly narrowed distrustingly. "What's going on?" His eyes moved back to mine as I tried to feel the back of his head for a bruise.

"The woman behind me is named Lenore. That's Eli," I started simple by just stating their names.

"Mel, what?" His question transformed into a hiss as I found the bruise, and I was relieved to find it wasn't bleeding.

"She said that they don't feed on humans. Only cattle," Sam's eyes widened as he registered the information.

"And you believe her?" He asked incredulously, and I shook my head helplessly.

"I don't know. I'm starting to. It would explain the mutilations in the newspapers," I could see Sam running through all the possibilities in his head, but I didn't have time to hear what he was thinking.

"Back to your seat," Eli ordered, pulling me a bit more roughly than necessary back into my seat.

"Why though?" Sam questioned, his gaze fixing on Lenore, who was still standing there stoically with her arms folded over her chest.

"Survival," She responded simply. "No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us, and we blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. It turns out, we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined,"

"Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers?" Eli exploded furiously, causing me to turn my eyes on him.

"Eli," Lenore began warningly.

"We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad, and they celebrated," Eli glared at both of us, and a chill went up my spine. Dean. Dean had murdered Conrad.

"Eli, that's enough," Lenore hissed at the man, who finally backed off.

"Yeah, Eli, that's enough," Sam mocked, making me throw a sharp glance his way.

"What's done is done," She spoke rationally. "We're leaving this town tonight," She informed us, glancing at Sam and then me.

"Well, then, why bring us here in the first place? Why didn't you just leave? Why tell us all of this?" I asked her, already pretty sure of the answer.

"Believe me, I'd rather not, but I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us," She elaborated without really giving a straight answer.

"So you're asking us not to follow you," Sam realized, and Lenore confirmed his words with a nod.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone," She argued with him.

"Right, so you keep saying, but give us one good reason why we should believe you," At Sam's words, Lenore leaned over him, smiling knowingly.

"Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" My grip on the chair tightened as I realized what she was probably about to do. I wriggled my hand, attempting to get it out of the rope. "I'm going to let you both go," I stopped struggling in shock. "Take them both back. Not a mark on them," Lenore ordered Eli, and then we were being dragged out of the house again with a bag over each of our heads.

_-1995-_

_"This is bullshit!" Dean snapped furiously, and I took a deep, shaky breath before packing a black sweater into the dark green duffel. "He can't just ship you off!"_

_ "Dean-" I began softly, knowing he was pissed but also knowing there was nothing either of us could do to stop what was happening._

_ "I'll tell him it was my fault," I stopped packing and turned to face the agitated boy that was running a hand through his already tousled brown hair._

_ "You can't do that," I tried, but he only continued._

_ "I'll tell him I kissed you. He'll be angry, but you'll get to stay," I brushed the lone tear, that was making it's way down my cheek, away roughly._

_ "Dean, stop," I spoke gently. We'd been dating for three and a half months already, and until now we'd managed to keep John in the dark about our relationship. We hadn't known how he would react, but we'd both been scared to find out. It turns out our fear wasn't unfounded._

_ "You can't leave, Mel," Another tear made it's way down my face, and I sniffled as I wiped it away._

_ "I don't have a choice," I tried not to choke on the words as I spoke them. "If John doesn't want me here anymore, I can't stay,"_

_ "I want you here," I looked up from the bag to meet Dean's green eyes, and before I could stop myself, I crossed the distance between us in one step and pressed my lips to his. I kissed him as if the fate of the world depended on it, and he kissed me back just as desperately, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me as close to him as possible. Finally, I pulled away, needing air, and he rested his forehead against mine._

_ "I love you," I whispered softly, another tear making a wet trail down my face. He kissed me again, and I shut my eyes, trying to memorize every detail of his lips. I didn't want to leave. My entire body seemed to be screaming at me to stay with Dean, Sam, and John, but I couldn't go against John._

_ "I love you, too," I could hear the sorrow and desperation in the words, and I forced myself to take a step back, out of his arms, knowing that if I didn't now, I may never._

_ "I'll still see you," I offered lamely; we both knew it wouldn't be the same._

_ "Yeah," He agreed halfheartedly. I glanced at the clock to realize it was 8:05, and my eyes immediately found my phone to see if I had any missed calls._

_ "You should go pick up Sam. John will be at the nearest bar by now," I spoke the last part bitterly as I shoved one of my jackets into the bag roughly._

_ "Okay," Dean agreed, grabbing the keys off the table and heading towards the door. As soon as I heard the roar of the Impala pulling away, I grabbed my phone and headed out the door as well, determined to find John Winchester and talk some sense into him._

"Yeah, they are, but Mel wouldn't just disappear, especially while we're working a case," I heard Dean say as we approached our motel room. I opened it and walked through, thoughts flying through my brain at a breakneck speed. Sam and I just stood there, and my eyes found Dean's, his holding a hidden relief. "Where've you two been?"

"We need to talk to you alone," I told him, my eyes flicking briefly to study Gordon before turning back to Dean.

"You mind chilling out for a couple of minutes?" Dean questioned, turning to face Gordon as he did. Gordon just shook his head and shrugged in consent. Dean got up from his chair and followed us out the door and to where the Impala was parked, which I judged to be a safe distance away from Gordon.

"Dean, maybe we got to rethink this hunt," Sam started the conversation, and Dean glanced at me and then back to Sam.

"What are you talking about? Where were you?" He asked, confusion lining his words.

"We were in the nest," I spoke without looking at him, but I could sense his surprise all the same.

"You found it?" His voice was almost excited and very impressed.

"Not quite," I hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. "They kidnapped us,"

"Well, how'd you two get out? How many did you kill?" Dean fired the questions at us, and I just shook my head, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"None," Dean's eyes moved from me to Sam as he responded.

"Well, guys, they didn't just let you both go," Dean joked.

"Yeah, they did," I cut off whatever he was planning on saying next.

"All right, well, where is it?" He wasn't interested in what we had to say about the vampires, he just wanted a hunt. He wanted something to get him mind off of… well the past month. Hunting was an escape for Dean.

"I was blindfolded. I don't know," Sam answered, and Dean's eyes focused on me.

"Mel?" He prompted when I remained silent. For a brief moment, I contemplated not telling him where the nest was, but I knew I couldn't lie to him.

"We went over a bridge that was around fifteen minutes from here, but I don't think we should hunt them," I quickly finished and saw him stiffen.

"Why not?" He asked, and it was clear that he didn't want to hear this.

"I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people," Dean's eyes turned to me in disbelief.

"You're joking, right? Tell me you don't believe this crap, Mel,"

"You didn't see them, Dean," I tried to stop the fight that I knew was coming.

"It doesn't matter. Look, if what you're saying is true, how do they stay alive or undead? Or whatever the hell they are?" His voice got louder as he continued.

"The cattle," I explained, praying he would agree with us and help the vampires. Even thinking that felt weird. "They said they've been living off of the cattle blood,"

"And you both believed them?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Look at us, Dean," Sam told him, throwing his arms out to the side. "They let us go without a scratch,"

"Wait, so you're saying-" Dean's mouth worked as he tried to come up with words to explain what we were trying to say. "No, guys. No way. I don't know why they let you both go. I don't really care. We find them, and we waste them," Dean started past us, but I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

"Why?" Sam spoke before I could, and Dean's eyes turned on him.

"What part of vampires don't you understand, Sam?" Dean's question held an edge, and I could sense the upcoming fight.

"If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job," I suppressed a flinch at his harsh words. I was supernatural, technically.

"No, Dean, that's not our job. Our job is hunting evil," Sam's voice began to rise too.

"He's right, Dean. If these vampires aren't killing anyone, they're not evil, and we can't hunt them," I backed Sam, and Dean scoffed.

"Of course we can. They have to be killing people. That's what they're kind does. They're all the same. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them,"

"No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time," Sam stammered, trying to convince his brother that we shouldn't go after our kidnappers.

"Gordon's been on those vamps for a year. He knows," That stung a bit as well.

"Gordon? You're taking his word for it?" Sam asked in disbelief, and Dean nodded.

"That's right," Dean agreed without shame.

"Listen, Ellen told us that he's bad news," I tried to interject, but Dean only turned his eyes on me incredulously.

"You called Ellen?" I just nodded in answer. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Mel. No thanks. I'll go with Gordon," I couldn't believe what he was saying right now.

"Right, cause Gordon's such an old friend," Sam sneered at his brother. "You don't think I can see what this is?"

"Sam," I spoke the word cautiously at the same time Dean said, "What are you talking about?"

"He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one," My eyes widened at Sam's words.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean's voiced contained carefully hidden fury, and he turned away from us to start heading towards the motel room.

"He's not even close, Dean, not on his best day," Sam went on.

"Sam, stop it," I snapped at him.

"No, Mel," Sam was furious now. This could only end badly. "You slap on this big fake smile, but I can see right through it 'cause I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead, and he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it. But you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory," I stood frozen as Sam finished, and I turned my eyes to Dean's shining ones.

"Dean, he doesn't know what he's talking about. Just walk away," I practically begged him, and Dean's eyes slowly turned from Sam to me, the hard, cold fury softening fractionally.

"Okay," He agreed hoarsely, turning to go for the second time.

"You know, I'm right, Dean. You're insult-" Dean whirled around and punched him clear across the face, making one of my hands fly up to hover in front of my mouth in shock. Sam straightened, holding a hand to his bruising cheek before facing Dean again. "You can hit me all you want. It won't change anything,"

"I'm going to that nest," Dean spoke determinedly, ignoring Sam's words. "You both don't want to tell me where it is. Fine. I'll find it myself," He stalked back to the motel room, and I followed him numbly, still stunned at what had just happened. We entered the motel room to find it void of anyone. "Gordon?" There was no use calling his name; he wasn't here.

"He went after the vampires," I realized, carefully hiding my growing fury.

"Probably," Dean agreed frustratedly, but his anger had ebbed.

"Guys, we have to stop him," I wholeheartedly agreed with Sam's words.

"Really? Cause I say we lend a hand," Dean snapped back, turning to face us.

"Dean, just trust us on this one, would you? They're different from the other vampires we ran into," I reasoned with him, and he seemed to consider it briefly.

"Yeah, we'll see," He grumbled before holding out his hand. "I'll drive. Give me the keys,"

"I put them on the table…" I trailed off as I realized there was nothing on the table where I was gesturing. "Goddamn it," I muttered; this whole case getting on my last nerve. "We'll have to hot-wire the Impala," Two minutes later, I was sitting in the back of the Impala while Dean sparked two wires together in the front.

"I can't believe this. I just fixed her up, too," The engine revved, and he set down the wires, turning to me. "So, the bridge, is that all you got?"

"It was four and a half minutes from the farm," I told him, confident that my information was correct.

"How do you know?" Dean questioned, and I suppressed the anger that rose in me again. Now was neither the time nor the place to get into this with him.

"I counted the seconds," I responded simply before returning to where I was studying the map Sam was holding. "We took a quick left right after the bridge, then turned left onto some dirt road, which lasted around two minutes, and finally took a right into the farm," I outlined the path we took.

"You are good," Dean sounded impressed, and I just gave him a cold look.

"Is that why you keep me around?" I sat back in my seat, taking the map from Sam.

"Mel-" Dean started.

"You should start driving," I interrupted, not wanting to hear his reasoning behind hitting Sam. I loved Dean and I would defend him until I died, but I was also protective of Sammy, which caused different emotions to battle inside of me.

"Okay," Dean sighed, not saying anymore, just pulling out of the parking space and heading towards the bridge.

_-1995-_

_"John," After an hour of searching, I'd finally found him at some bar two miles away from our motel. I sat down next to him, seeing an empty beer glass next to the one he was drinking from._

_ "Melody," He used my full name, which stung more than it should have. "Are your things packed?"_

_ "I can't leave," He sighed heavily at my words. "You, Sam, and Dean - you're my family. You can't just send me away," He turned to look at me then, and I saw the unwillingness in his eyes._

_ "You can't stay," He told me with an air of finality._

_ "Why?" I demanded, growing annoyed. "If you're going to kick me out of this family, at least tell me why," I rarely ever stood up to John. In fact, in the course of sixteen years I'd fought him on something once._

_ "You and Dean…" He trailed off, shaking his head._

_ "We aren't related," I pointed out hotly. "We're family, but we aren't really related,"_

_ "I know. It's not that," John's voice gained a sorrowful tone. "He loves you," My anger stopped short at his words. "And you love him," I opened my mouth, not sure what I was going to say, but knowing I needed to say something. "Don't deny it. I've noticed it for a while now,"_

_ "Why is that bad?" I questioned, not understanding what had made him so furious._

_ "I've seen couples who hunt together, Mel. It never ends well for them. Love… it messes up your game - makes you weak, vulnerable. You and Dean need to be sharp and alert. He can't be worried about you all the time, or you him," He sighed again, shaking his head, and a chill ran through my body as he spoke his next words. "It'll kill him… it'll kill you both,"_

_ "John, we're hunters. There's always the possibility that we may not make it. It's part of the job," I tried, and he hesitated for a moment. "There's something else, isn't there?" I prompted, and he down at his beer before back at me._

_ "The way you look at each other - I used to look at Mary that way," My body froze as he mentioned Mary. Not only did he never mention her, but he also grew furious whenever Dean, Sam, or I did. "When she died, I didn't know if I could go on. The only thing that kept me going was the need to take care of you kids and the desire to kill that demon. I can't let Dean or you go through that ever," A silence fell after his words, and I waited a moment before I spoke._

_ "Do you regret loving Mary?" His eyebrows furrowed, and his face grew guarded._

_ "Of course not," He denied gruffly._

_ "Doesn't everyone deserve a chance to love somebody that much?" I questioned, and he chuckled, looking down at his glass again._

_ "I guess so," He agreed. "You can stay," My heart skipped at his words, but then he faced me with a cautious look in his eyes. "But when we are running a job that is the main focus. Understood?" I could read between the lines clear enough. No flirting while working._

_ "Understood," I could barely contain my excitement and relief about being able to stay with my family._

_ "Your dad and Jez are still coming to help us on the next hunt I found. We're meeting them in Montana," My excitement grew at seeing my sister and dad again, and I nodded, smiling. "Okay, now go back to the motel. I'll be in late,"_

_ "Thank you," Was all I could think to say, and John smiled before I turned and headed out the door._

When we arrived at the farm, I instantly knew it was the right one. We hurried up the steps and in the front door, which, surprisingly, was unlocked. Inside, Lenore was tied to a chair with Gordon standing next to her with a long, wickedly sharp looking knife that was coated with a dark red, gooey liquid that I quickly realized had to be dead man's blood.

"Sam, Dean, Mel, come on in," He greeted us like we were old friends that had come to join him.

"Gordon, what's going on?" Dean asked, his voice containing uncertainty and wariness.

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood," Gordon informed us matter-of-factly, like he was telling us what the weather was. He turned to the woman that was tied up beside him. "She's gonna tell us where all her friends are, aren't you?" I glanced at Dean to see him looking at me with hesitance. "Want to help?" Gordon questioned us.

"Look, man-" Dean started, shifting uneasily.

"Grab a knife," Gordon interrupted him brusquely, gesturing to the table. "I was just about to start in on the fingers," He drew his blade across Lenore's arm, and she let out a choked gurgle that caused me to stiffen. All I wanted to do was storm over there and rip the knife out of Gordon's hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?" Dean tried to diffuse the situation, but Gordon wasn't the most reasonable man we'd met.

"I'm completely chill," He told us with an eerie calm about him.

"Gordon, just drop the knife and let's talk about this before we do anything stupid," I took a step towards him as I spoke, but Dean put an arm in front of my waist, stopping me.

"It sounds like it's Mel here who needs to chill," Gordon didn't take his eyes off of me as he spoke to Dean.

"Just step away from her, all right?" Sam spoke tensely from where he stood next to Dean, and, surprisingly, Gordon heeded Sam's words.

"You're right," He threw the knife down on the table, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk," He picked up a black cover from the table and unsheathed the machete. "Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane," As if that made anything better. I slipped around Dean's arm and walked towards him quickly.

"There's no way you're killing her," I snapped at him, but I froze when his blade whipped around rest inches from my heart.

"Yes, I am, and you can't do a damn thing about it," Gordon's voice gained a threatening tone.

"Hey! Hey," Dean earned his attention as he slowly walked towards him. "Gordon, she was right. Let's just talk about this,"

"What's there to talk about?" He questioned in something close to confusion. "It's like I said, Dean - no shades of grey," My eyes flicked to Dean for a quick second before fixing on Gordon again.

"Yeah, I hear you," Dean agreed with him, but the way he looked at Gordon was different now. Dean was regarding him as if he were someone who'd just escaped from an asylum. "And I know how you feel,"

"Do you?" Gordon asked rhetorically.

"The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this-" Dean broke off as Gordon began chuckling darkly.

"Killed my sister," Gordon echoed bitterly. "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them, so I hunted her down, and I killed her myself," My mouth formed an 'o' of shock. He killed his own sister, and he didn't even think twice about it.

"You did what?" Dean asked dumbly, not believing that Gordon could do something like that.

"It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human," The knife was removed from my chest as Gordon walked towards Dean. "I didn't blink, and neither would you,"

"You knew," I realized, the knowledge making me even more furious. "You knew that they weren't hurting anyone, and yet you were still going to kill them. You really don't care,"

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice, taking a little time out from sucking innocent people, and we're supposed to buy that?" I glanced at Dean, who was looking between Gordon and I, unsure. "Trust me, it doesn't change what they are, and I can prove it," I had a split second to be confused before Gordon grabbed my arm tightly, taking me off guard, and he drew the knife across it, creating a thin line of blood. I hissed in pain and surprise at the sudden pain, and Gordon pressed the knife to my throat, forcing me to walk backwards towards Lenore.

"You son of a bitch," I heard the click of a gun cocking, and saw Dean holding the weapon in front of him; his eyes had lost their uncertain gleam. "Let her go," He demanded as we reached Lenore. "Now!" He snapped as Gordon didn't release me.

"Relax," Gordon told him, still maintaining that calm. "If I wanted to kill her, she'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point," I looked down to where Lenore was looking up at my bleeding arm, and it only took me a moment to realize what he was doing. Gordon's grip tightened on my arm, causing blood to drip down onto her cheek. She gasped as another drop hit her cheek, and then her fangs came in. She hissed inhumanly up at my arm, and I swallowed hard.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, and I glanced at him briefly to see his eyes flicking from Lenore to me uncertainly.

"Think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her," My eyes dropped to Lenore's wide, fanged mouth gaping up at my bleeding cut. "They're all the same - evil, bloodthirsty,"

"No," My eyes widened slightly as she turned away from the blood. "No," She repeated, her whole figure seeming to tremble.

"You hear her, Gordon?" Sam pointed to the woman in the chair, and I carefully pushed the blade away from my neck.

"It's over," I told him as he took a step back from both her and me. I glanced at Dean and nodded to show I was alright.

"Sam, get her out of here," Dean ordered, and Sam came forward, untying her and picking her up. Gordon came forward, and Dean raised his gun again. Slowly, I stepped away from Gordon until I reached Dean's side and took a knife from the table. There was no way I was letting him handle Gordon alone. "Gordon, I think you and us have got some things to talk about,"

"Get out of my way," He commanded us, but Dean and I didn't move an inch.

"Sorry," Dean apologized without any real feeling behind it.

"You can't be serious," Gordon spoke in disbelief.

"I'm having trouble believing it, too, but I know what I saw," Dean glanced down at me as he spoke, but I kept my eyes on Gordon. "If you want those vampires you got to go through me," Gordon sighed heavily, and stuck his knife into the wood of the table.

"Fine," He agreed, and I cautiously set my knife down as well, every alarm bell I had screaming at me that this was a trap. Dean discharged his gun, and went to put the ammo in his pocket. On instinct, I stepped in front of him as he put away the ammo, and in one smooth motion Gordon was in front of me and backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground.

He promptly got punched in the face by a infuriated Dean. I spun on the floor to look up as Gordon grabbed the knife off the table and went after Dean. I grabbed the knife that I always kept hidden in my right boot and stood quickly. Gordon swung the knife at Dean, but I stepped in front, catching his arm and jamming my small knife into the top of his shoulder. He let out a cry and dropped the knife, allowing Dean to swing him around and into the wall.

"What are you doing, man?" Gordon attempted to reason with Dean, who glared at him. "You doing this for a fang? Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here," They were at a stalemate with Dean's hands gripping Gordon's shoulder's tightly, and Gordon's hands gripping Dean's in return.

"I don't think so, you sadistic bastard," I snatched the knife off the table moved silently to stand behind Gordon, nodding to Dean. Before he could do anything, Gordon's elbow came up and bashed Dean's face, causing him to stumble back, dazed for a moment. Gordon used the moment to slam his foot into Dean's gut and send him flying backwards.

"Hey!" Gordon turned at my yell, and I swung at him, only to have him catch my fist in midair. I used the reversed momentum to bring my knee up and drive the air from his lungs. He stepped back, coughing and swung a right hook, which I evaded in the knick of time. I slammed my elbow into his already hurt shoulder, making him yell in pain. Suddenly, I felt Gordon kick my legs out from under me, which caused me to hit the ground hard on my back. He turned back to Dean from where he was standing above me, and I gasped raggedly for air.

"You're not like your brother or your girlfriend," He told Dean, glaring harshly at me before facing Dean again. "You're a killer like me," For some reason, that comment sparked a rage in me that I didn't know I had.

"No, he's not," I kicked out my right leg, catching Gordon's ankles and knocking him to the ground with a thud. Dean was on top of him in a heartbeat, punching him repeatedly before dragging him up and throwing him into the mirror, making it shatter. He flipped him around, and Gordon tried to fight back, but Dean grabbed his arm, which was raised in a weak attempt at a punch, and pushed it back down. Dean regarded him for a moment before punching him again. I regained my breath as he put Gordon in a deadlock and ran him into a wall as they walked towards the chair Lenore had been in.

"Oh, sorry," I couldn't even smile at that. He sat Gordon down in the chair and tied him up as I stood and brushed myself off. Dean finished tying him off and his eyes found mine, but I just turned away and walked out the door into the cold night. "Hey," Dean caught my arm and spun me to face him. He cradled my face in his hands, turning it slightly to see my right cheek, which was probably becoming more and more black and blue as we spoke.

"Now I have one to match Sammy's," I spit out bitterly, and I saw his eyes move from anger to guilt and something else that I couldn't quite discern.

"Mel, I don't know what happened. I just…" He trailed off, and I raised my eyebrow at him.

"You just what, Dean?" I prompted, not about to let him get out of talking.

"He was right, Mel," He swallowed hard and bowed his head. "He was right about everything. I feel like there's this hole inside of me, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. And no matter what I do…" He shook his head.

"It doesn't change anything," I finished for him. I knew exactly what that felt like.

"When we were kids, I used to think he was indestructible, invincible. Nothing could hurt him. Now he's just gone, and I have this anger inside of me," Dean's eyes had gained a faraway look in them, and I could clearly see the tears he was blinking back.

"I know," I spoke gently, placing my hands softly on either side of his face. "I know it seems impossible, but that hole will get smaller, and the anger will ebb. One day that anger will disappear, but you can't keep everything bottled up inside forever, Dean. You have me and Sammy. Just talk to us once in awhile instead of taking your anger out on everything," I reached up and kissed him softly, feeling his hands rest on my waist. It was a slow, loving kiss that seemed to stretch out for eternity in only a few seconds. I pulled away, smiling slightly. "We should probably go back inside,"

"Gordon's all tied up," Dean shrugged, grinning at me. "We have time,"

_"You're amazing," I glanced up at him and laughed lightly. "Really," He insisted, making my smile wider. "How'd you convince him to let you stay?"_

_ "I just talked to him," My smile flattered as I remembered what John had said._

_ "What did he say?" Dean could read me better than anyone, and I wasn't surprised when he asked the question._

_ "He talked about Mary," I confessed, feeling Dean stiffen in shock. "He was worried that if one of us…" I wasn't able to finish that thought, so I just shook my head._

_ "Hey," I glanced up to meet Dean's eyes, and his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Nothing's going to happen to us, all right?"_

_ "Okay," I agreed softly, glancing up at the stars that lit up the night sky. Dean and I were sitting on the beach, leaning on a boulder that jutted out from the sand. The beach was mostly deserted except for us and a few kids farther down. I dug my toes into the sand as we sat in a comfortable silence._

_ "What else did he say?" Dean questioned curiously after a minute._

_ "He said we were a danger to each other. That we are vulnerable because of it," I was starting to see the logic in that, which scared me more than anything. "Maybe we should just stop," I hated myself for even suggesting it, but it needed to be said._

_ "What are you talking about?" Dean's voice held so many different emotions, it was impossible to pick out all of them._

_ "I'm talking about stopping this, Dean. I'm talking about… breaking up," I swallowed hard as I felt Dean freeze next to me. "John had a point, you're vulnerable when I'm with you. Maybe it's safer-"_

_ "Stop," Dean's firm voice cut me off, and I turned to him to see there was pain and defiance in his eyes._

_ "Dean, I can't risk-" I began, but Dean interrupted me._

_ "I don't care," His words made me frown. "I don't care if I'm vulnerable when I'm with you, and I don't care what my dad thinks," My jaw popped open at his last statement. "You're worth it," A smile grew on my lips at those words, and I reached up to kiss him._

Daylight came faster slowly, and after what seemed like ages, Sam finally came through the door to stand next to Dean and I in front of the still tied up Gordon.

"I miss anything?" Sam asked, rolling up his sleeves.

"Eh, not much," Dean answered, and Sam scoffed in disbelief as he took in our beat up faces.

"Did Lenore leave?" I questioned, glancing away from Gordon.

"Yeah, all of them did," He emphasized, glaring at Gordon, who's jaw tightened as he said that.

"Then, I guess our work here is done," Dean spoke to Gordon, who glowered at him. "How are you doing, Gordie? Got to tinkle yet?" I rolled my eyes but smiled as Dean taunted him. "All right. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out and untie you," Dean slammed the knife into the wood a ways behind Gordon.

"Come on," I spoke up as Dean walked back around Gordon towards us. "Let's go,"

"Not yet," He faced Gordon, looking almost bashful. "I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's - it's been real," He dealt a uppercut to Gordon's chin, sending him back in the chair with an painful thud. He turned back to us and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Okay. I'm good now. We can go," I pulled Sam along behind us before letting go of his arm as we walked out the door. Dean had bandaged my arm with the kit that we kept in the Impala, and it itched like crazy, which made me flex it and move it around some as we descended the stairs.

"Sam," I glanced up when I felt Dean release my waist to see him looking at Sammy.

"Yeah?" Sam turned to look at his brother.

"Clock me one," Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile. Dean was trying to make amends for what he'd done.

"What?" Sam asked, not understanding.

"Come on, I won't even hit you back. Let's go," Sam glanced at me uncertainly, and I grinned slightly, making him grin as well and chuckle.

"No," He answered as if it were the most obvious response in the world, which it was.

"Let's go. You get a freebie. Hit me. Come on," Dean readied himself, and Sam just waved a hand at him, scoffing at his request.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check," I shook my head and followed Sam as he headed towards the car.

"I wish we never took this job. It just jacked everything up," I went around to the passenger's side before glancing up at Dean, Sam beside me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Think about all the hunts we went on, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing. You know? I mean, the way dad raised us,"

"Dean, after what happened to mom…" Sam began hesitantly. "Dad did the best he could,"

"I know he did, but maybe he wasn't perfect, and the way he raised us to hate those things - and, man, I hate them. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it,"

"But you didn't kill Lenore," I pointed out, and he glanced at me with sorrow in his gaze.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill them all," Dean admitted, and I felt a chill go up my spine. He wasn't a killer, and he sure as hell wasn't anything like Gordon.

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't, and that's what matters," Sam told him confidently.

"Yeah, cause you're a pain in my ass, and Mel's always right," Both Sam and I laughed at his words, and I got into the car, leaving the two boys to talk for a few more moments before Sam got in as well, Dean right after him.

* * *

><p><em>"Get off of her! No, no, no. It's our dad. It's our dad!" Dean was behind me shouting at the nurse that was trying to get me out of the room. I saw him. John. Dark hair, unshaved beard, tan skin, burly. He was on the bed.<em>

_ "Okay. Let's try again. An amp of atropine," The doctor was ordering the nurses, and I could hear Dean's desperate pleas next to my ear, but I didn't look away from the body on the bed._

_ "Okay, stop compression," The mask was removed from John's limp face. The drone of the heart monitor filled the silence of the room. "Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it," Don't say it. Don't say it. "Time of death - 10:41,"_

I jerked awake, panting and shaking for a moment before I realized where I was. I pushed the covers off the bed, suddenly feeling as though I couldn't breathe. I barely remembered to throw on a jacket before opening the door as quietly as I could and slipping out, shutting it behind me. I sped up my walk to almost a run before turning the corner. I stopped short, pressing my back against the wall and sliding down it until my butt hit the floor.

I wanted to cry. I needed to cry. Instead, I just sat there shivering and shaking in the cold night air.


	4. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

****So sorry this update took so long, but I'd love to hear from everyone in the reviews! Please tell me what you think about the story! I absolutely love reading them! Again, sorry for the delay! Quick disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except my own lovely OCs! So excited to write the next chapter and meet Andy (he was one of my favorite season 2 characters)! Please PM or review if you have any suggestions, criticisms, or remarks about my story! I love reading them! Thanks again and love you all!****

_Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things_

"Come on, Sam. I'm begging you. This is stupid," Dean began, and I bit my lip, debating whether to get involved in the argument or just let it run it's course. I knew both sides of this argument, and I also knew how it would end.

"Why?" Sam questioned, and I sighed lightly, going back to flipping through the magazine I had been looking at. I settled on remaining quiet unless the fight got majorly out of hand, which I very much doubted it would.

"Going to visit mom's grave?" Dean reiterated what we were doing, and my hand subconsciously flew to the pendant that rested on a thin, gold chain around my neck. Mary had given it to me when I was barely three for Christmas. With the danger in our work, I rarely wore it for fear of loosing it, but I figured now was a good occasion. It was beautiful and simple yet elegant with a bronze colored circle pendant that held a small, blue gemstone embedded in it.

"He's got a point, Sam. I mean, she doesn't even really have a grave," I chimed in, realizing that my 'don't get involved' rule was stupid and probably wouldn't have lasted very long anyway. I knew that it would be good for Dean to see his mother's grave, and I was worried about him but for some reason, I couldn't picture myself there.

"Exactly," Dean acknowledged my argument. "There was no body left after the fire," Dean's voice gained a defensive tone that made me glance up from the magazine apprehensively.

"She has a headstone," Sam argued, making an unfortunately good point.

"Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man that we've never even met, so you want to go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger-" Dean started heatedly, his hand tightening on the wheel.

"Dean, that's enough," I stopped him mid-rant. He'd been on edge lately, and I hadn't stopped worrying about him since John had joined us again back when we did that vampire hunt. "Sam just wants to resect her memory," Sam nodded at me, and I gave him a small, strained smile.

"So, what, you're on his side now?" Dean glanced at me accusingly in the rearview, and I sighed briefly, shaking my head.

"I'm not on anyone's side, Dean. I just think that if Sammy wants to pay his respects, then he has a right to. Mary was his mom, too," I reminded Dean gently, reaching up to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and feeling him relax slightly under my touch.

"Yeah, and after dad, it just - it just feels like the right thing to do," Both Dean and I stiffened at the mention of John, and I roughly shoved the harsh memories that surfaced away

"It's irrational is what it is," Dean grumbled, unwilling to give into Sam's reasoning.

"Look, man, no one asked you to come," Sam pointed out, surprisingly understanding.

"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? We haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down," I suppressed a third sigh at Dean's words. All he wanted to do was hunt now, bury himself in the job.

"That's a good idea. You both should," Sam agreed with his brother, and I shot him a pointed glance as he included me. I never told him I didn't want to see Mary's grave. "Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there tomorrow," Dean glanced back at me, and I could see he was actually considering Sam's words.

"No," I shot down the idea, knowing that the three of us needed to stick together. "It's dangerous to split up, especially when there's a demon out there hunting for us," That much was true at least. A half hour later, Dean pulled into the cemetery parking lot, and we both got out and headed inside the iron gates. Dean and I paused as we neared the section of the cemetery where Mary's grave was supposed to be. Sam glanced back at us and seemed to understand instantly what was happening.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," He told us before turning again and walking through the gravestones.

"You can go, you know," My eyes flicked to Dean as he spoke up, and I shook my head at the suggestion.

"I'm okay with waiting here," My fingers toyed with the pendant around my neck again as I faced Dean. "Come on," I took his hand and started away from the spot we'd been standing. "Sam'll be a few minutes. Let's walk around some. This place is giving me the creeps," Dean let out a small chuckle that made me glance sideways at him quizzically.

"That's a bit ironic," My mouth twitched up in a small smile. "The hunter who is creeped out by cemeteries," Dean joked, and I nudged him lightly with my shoulder.

"Shut up," His hand slid from mine to rest around my waist as I rested my head against his shoulder. "I'm not creeped out by all cemeteries. Just this one feels… cold," I couldn't really describe it; it just felt different, dark somehow.

"Whatever you say," He surrendered, causing me to smile ever so slightly, but the smile faded when I caught sight of something a few yards away. I lifted my head from Dean's shoulder to get a better view of it.

"Hey, what's that?" In a couple steps I was in front of the dead tree, feeling the trunk of it, which was dry and stiff.

"Mel," Something in Dean's tone made me turn to look at him inquiringly only to see him studying the ground. My gaze dropped to my feet to take in the dead grass that surrounded us in a circle. Dean's eyes focused on a grave a few feet away from me and he headed towards it, kneeling down in front. From what I could tell, it was a recent death due to all the now dead flowers that were laid down next to it.

"Excuse me!" I called to an old man in a dark jacket 'security' jacket. He came over, and I gestured to the grave, trying to appear natural even though I was about to ask for the information of a dead girl that I didn't know. "Who's grave is this?"

"Angela Mason," The man replied, not seeming the least bit disturbed by the odd question. "She was a student over at the college. Her dad works in the town just over there. He's a professor at the school," He shook his head sorrowfully as he gestured to the right. "Poor thing. They buried her three days ago, you know. It was heartbreaking," My eyes caught Sam, who was watching us, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"And do you use any pesticides around this area?" Dean inquired, and I was honestly hoping the guy said no. As much as Dean wanted a hunt, I wanted one more.

"No, nothing. It's a shame everything here's dying," He shook his head again, and I could tell that he was still somewhat talking about the girl that was buried here.

"Thank you," I smiled as he handed me a card, and Dean and I headed back to Sam.

"Angela Mason," Dean informed him as the three of us began walking to the car. "She was a student at the local college, and her funeral was three days ago,"

"And?" Sam prompted, causing me to glance at him incredulously.

"Sammy, look at her grave," I gestured back to the circle of death that surrounded the kid's grave. "It's a perfect circle. You can't tell me you think that's normal,"

"Maybe the ground's keeper went a little argo with the pesticides," He shrugged, making me stare at him with a popped jaw disbelievingly. He couldn't be naive enough to really think that was what was going on here.

"No, I asked him," Dean replied. "No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it,"

"Okay, so, what are you guys thinking?" Sam questioned, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Not sure. Spirit risen, maybe? Unholy ground," I listed, glancing at Sam to see his incredulous face. He stopped, and Dean and I turned to face him. "What?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"If something evil happened, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" Dean backed me up, and Sam's eyes flicked to the grave before he looked back to us.

"Yeah," He shook his head in confusion and something that if I hadn't known better I would've said was pity.

"It could be similar - a sign of demonic presence," I agreed with Dean, not sure why Sam was acting so skeptical. It's not like we hadn't chased down hunts that had less signs than some poisoned ground. "Or her spirit," Sam just shook his head again and began walking back to the car. "Well, you're excitement's overwhelming, Sam,"

"It's just stumbling onto a hunt… here of all places?" He ignored my sarcastic quip while speaking in a skeptical tone that I really didn't like one bit.

"So?" Dean shrugged.

"So, are you sure this is about a hunt, not something else?" I suppressed an eye roll as I leaned on the passenger's door, facing Sam, who stood with his hand on the right back door.

"What else would it be about?" Dean's voice held a warning not to continue the conversation, but, per usual, Sam didn't heed it.

"You know, just forget it," Sam sighed, glancing at me and then looking at Dean again and shaking his head.

"Look, you can believe whatever you want, but the fact is this might be a hunt and if it is, we can't just abandon the people here," I pointed out, and Sam sighed.

"Yeah, and we let you drag our asses out here, the least we could do is check this out," Dean brought up a good point, and Sam glanced at the gravestones for a moment before looking at me and then Dean.

"Yeah, fine," Sam sighed reluctantly as he agreed, and I let out a brief, small smile. We had a hunt.

"The girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school," Dean got into the driver's seat, and I shot Sammy a small smile before sliding into the driver's seat. The ride over to the local college was surprisingly short, and it only took us a couple minutes to find the professor's room, for the college was also surprisingly small. Dean knocked on the glass door with faded yellow letters running across it. A small, grey haired man in a brown suit and blue tie opened the door, studying us inquiringly.

"Are you Dr. Mason?" I questioned politely, but I already knew the answer.

"Yes," I could see the hard expression on the man's face, but it was tired and drawn at the same time. The face of a man who'd just lost his only daughter.

"I'm Sam. This is Dean and Mel," Sam nodded to each of us respectively as he answered. "We were friends of Angela's. We-we wanted to offer our condolences," The man's expression changed to one of sorrow, and he stepped aside to allow us to pass.

"Please, come in," We followed him in and sat down on a couch while he pulled something out from his desk and handed it to me since I was sitting in between the two boys. I opened it, and my heart gave a painful tug as I saw that the album was filled with pictures of him and Angela smiling together.

"She was beautiful," Sam spoke softly as Dean rose and went to the bookshelves.

"Yes, she was," Her father agreed.

"This is an unusual book," Dean snapped the book closed and turned it to face us so we could all see the strange, golden symbols that were covering the front of it.

"It's ancient greek. I teach a course," He explained, and Dean accepted it, putting the book back on the shelf.

"A car accident," I shook my head. "It's just so horrible," I bowed my head, and her father looked down.

"Angie was only a mile away from home when…" He trailed off, his face tightening as if he were trying not to cry. I reached out and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder softly, wanting to give the old man some comfort.

"It's got to be hard… loosing someone like that. Sometimes it's like they're still around, almost like you can still sense their presence. You ever feel anything like that?" Dean questioned pointedly, and my eyes returned to the man.

"I do, as a matter of fact," He nodded, his voice sounding broken.

"Don't worry, that's perfectly normal. Especially with everything you're going through right now," I reassured him, glancing up at Dean to give him a look. People who are grieving always feel like that; it's nothing special. If we were going to prove to Sam that this was a hunt, we needed something stronger.

"You know, I still phone her," I swallowed hard, my mind wanting to drift backwards through time, but I forced it to stay in the present. "And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh…" He didn't need to finish the sentence. "Family's everything, you know?" My eyes flicked to Dean before they returned to Dr. Mason. "Angie was the most important thing in my life, and now I'm just lost without her,"

"We're very sorry," Sam spoke up when neither Dean or I did. This time I didn't look at anyone. Instead, my eyes dropped to the floor. I understood everything he was saying perfectly, and I could feel his pain as if it were my own.

_ The fire blazed brightly as the flames traveled up the wood to lick at the items that were wrapped in a white cloth and set atop the pyre. By now, the things were little more than charred metal, but I couldn't bring myself to walk away from them. There hadn't been a body to burn, so we'd gathered up some of his personal belongings and burned them as if they were his corpse. If anyone deserved a hunter's funeral, it was my dad. My hand reached up to my belt where a dagger was slid into the waistband of my jeans. He'd given it to me for my last birthday, which had been two months ago. Back then, everything had been perfect. I'd been with Dean, my dad had been alive and well, Jez wasn't leaving, and we'd all been together. It was the last really happy moment of my life. And it would never happen again._

_ "Mel?" I didn't turn as I heard Sam's soft voice behind me. I could feel the dry tear stains on my face, but I didn't care enough to brush them away. He was dead. My dad was dead. He'd died saving my life. My throat closed, but I couldn't cry anymore. The past three days had been hell for me, and I'd cried more than I had in the entire rest of my life combined. "Melody," Sam's hand was on my shoulder now. "You have to come," I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the fire to look at Sam._

_ "What are you talking about?" I had meant for the words to come out demanding, but my voice was hoarse from disuse so it ended up sounding more like a croak._

_ "It's Dean and Jez," The two had never been close, and they constantly argued. I loved them both, of course different ways, but I really hated it when they fought. "You really need to come," Finally, the worry in Sam's voice pierced the haze of grief that was clouding my thoughts and emotions, and I frowned at him._

_ "Why? What's happening?" Sam just shook his head, and, with a massive effort, I managed to force myself to focus on what Sam was saying._

_ "You just need to come," He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards Bobby's house, where we were staying for a short while until John picked us up again. I heard the shouting when I was still a good ways from the porch and hurried the last few steps with Sam jogging in front of me. He wrenched the door open, and I walked inside, my eyes widening at the sight. Jez was hurling a shoe at Dean, who ducked, allowing it to sail over his head and hit the wall. Dean's jaw was tightened, and he looked darkly furious, his eyes burning with hatred. Jez, on the other hand, looked borderline hysterical with anger as she picked up a picture frame and hurled it at him. He tried to get out of the way, but it sliced his cheek as it hurtled by._

_ "You bitch!" He yelled at her, stalking towards her, and in response she picked up a knife off the table._

_ "Stop it! What the hell is going on?" I forced my voice to a yell, making Jez and Dean freeze and turn to face me. There was a moment of absolute stillness before Jez stormed over to the couches and picked up a black duffel bag._

_ "Ask him," She glowered at Dean for a moment, and he glared daggers at her in return._

_ "You're leaving?" I asked, feeling more broken than before, and she turned her softening eyes on me as she slung the duffel over her shoulder._

_ "I'm sorry," Was all the explanation she offered heading towards the door, but I blocked the exit._

_ "You said you'd stay for a couple of days," I was begging her now, but I didn't care. She was the only person who really knew how I felt, and now she was leaving me too. "Jez-"_

_ "I can't stay here," Her eyes flicked to Dean before landing on me again. "I'm sorry. I'll call you when I'm safe," She brushed past me and out the door as I stood there, frozen. A few seconds later, I heard the crunch of tires over leaves and then silence._

_ "Mel…" I didn't want to hear Dean's apology, so I just numbly walked past him towards the stairs. "Mel, wait," He caught my arm, spinning me to face him, and I could see the regret in his face. "I just…"_

_ "You just what Dean?" I asked tiredly, not having the energy to be angry or even sad anymore. "Because of you the last family I had left just walked out the door," Hurt flooded his eyes, and a bitter happiness pierced my stomach. I had meant to hurt him with that comment; I wanted to make him feel a fraction of the pain I was feeling. I jerked my arm out of his hand and whirled around, continuing to the stairs. I took measured steps until I reached my room and shut the door, pressing my back against it and sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. I had been wrong before. I could still cry._

"I'm telling you, there's something going on yet, we just haven't found it," Dean insisted, glancing across the room at where I was sitting on one of the beds with a huge book in my hands.

"Guys, so far you got a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam's skepticism was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Well, that grave didn't turn into unholy ground by itself," I pointed out sarcastically.

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground," Sam turned around from where he was drying his face with a towel. "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful-spirit material. You heard her father,"

"Yeah, well, maybe daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean suggested, and I completely agreed. No college girl tells there dad everything that happens to her.

"You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore," Sam threw the towel aside as his voice grew heated.

"Okay, Sam, say we leave, and this is a hunt. People will die because we just left without figuring out what's going on here," I argued, feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was right to think this was a hunt.

"I think I know what's going on here. IT's the only reason I went along with both of you this far," Sam confessed, and I set my book down and rose an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue with the thought.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked him.

"This is about mom's grave," Dean scoffed, and I rolled my eyes, picking the book up again and rifling through it.

"Sam, this has nothing to do with Mary's grave," I assured him.

"Neither of you would step within a hundred yards of it. Look maybe you're both imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about mom or dad," Dean stopped rifling through his duffel bag and straightened, glaring at Sam. Something in his eyes worried me, and I took a small step forward to stand between him and Sam. "You want to take another swing? Go ahead if it will make you feel better,"

"No one's swinging at anybody," I spoke firmly, not wanting a repeat of what happened last time. I glanced up at Dean to see him still glowering at Sam. "Dean," I prompted gently, and finally his eyes flicked to meet mine and some of the anger melted.

"I don't need this crap," He stalked to the dresser and picked up the keys to the Impala before glancing back at me. "Where are you going?" Sam called after him, and he turned back.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," He informed his brother before his eyes landed on me. "You coming?" I picked up my jacket from the bed and shrugged it on before following him out the door.

-SPN-

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking lazily at the sunlight that was streaming through the windows. It was the first time in a long time that Dean or I had gotten a full night's rest. I lifted my head from where it was resting on Dean's bare chest to take in his peacefully sleeping face, and I couldn't help smiling slightly before I kissed him on the cheek lightly and got up, going to the bathroom to shower. When I got out of the shower, I changed and brushed my hair and teeth before coming out of the bathroom to see Dean was gazing at me sleepily from the bed.

"Get up," I nudged him as I walked around the bed to my boots. "We should go to Angela's house - see if there's any clues as to why she'd come back," I reasoned, and Dean let out a groan of protest.

"What's the rush?" He grabbed my wrist, and I let out a cry of surprise as he pulled me back down onto the bed, kissing me.

"The rush is that we need prove that our case isn't imaginary," I told him in between kisses, and he sighed, pulling away to gaze down at me and smile slightly.

"Fine," I was almost sorry he'd surrendered, but we had work to do. I threw on my shoes as he got dressed, and we headed out the door quickly. Angela's house was only a few minutes away. I picked the lock with ease while Dean stood behind me, shielding me from view. We slipped inside, and he shut the door behind us as I began to look around. The house was quaint with picture frames everywhere along with cute wallpaper and curtains for the windows. A certain picture caught my eye, and I picked up the dark wooden frame to see it more clearly. That's when the reflection in the glass caught my eye; a woman was turning around to face us. I whirled just as she let out a scream, and I saw her staring open mouthed at Dean.

"Who the hell are you?" She hurried back into the bathroom as Dean started towards her.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on," She slammed the door without waiting for his excuse.

"I'm calling 911!" She cried. Well, she wasn't stupid.

"I'm Angela's cousin," He called, and there was silence for a moment.

"What?" I could tell be the tone of her voice that the young woman was already on her way to believing him.

"Yeah, her dad sent us here to pick up some of her things," I added onto the lie.

"Our name's are Alan and Marisa Stanwick," He glanced at me, shrugging, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the names. The door opened and the woman looked at us warily.

"Her dad didn't say that you were coming," She told us.

"Yeah, well, he didn't mention you either," I replied, glancing at Dean. "Her dad gave us the key. How else would we be able to get in?" She finally nodded in acceptance, and five minutes later we were sitting on the couches while she went through a box of tissues, sobbing all the while.

"So, I'm sure you got a view of Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell us, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?" Dean asked the mourning woman, who looked up at us and swallowed hard before speaking.

"She was great… Just… great. I mean, she was so…" She trailed off, not being able to find the words to describe how her friend was.

"Great?" I supplied, and she nodded, beginning to cry again.

"Yeah," She broke down, and Dean offered her another tissue. "Yeah,"

"You two must've been really close, huh?" Dean encouraged her to continue.

"We were," She agreed. "But it's not just her, it's Matt,"

"Matt?" I echoed in confusion.

"Matt. Angela's boyfriend," She spoke in an obvious voice, like I should've known who she was referring to.

"Right, of course. What happened?" I asked, knowing that it couldn't be anything good.

"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. I mean, who does that?" That's what we'd been waiting for. That was proof.

"That's awful. I'm so sorry," I offered my condolences, but she just shook her head.

"He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess… I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days," She confessed, taking another tissue.

"Messed up how?" Dean asked.

"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere," I frowned, thinking that maybe it was just another sign of grief, just like the professor when he'd said he felt Angela's presence.

"Well, I'm sure that's normal. I mean, with everything he was going through," Dean was clearly thinking along the same lines.

"He said that he _saw_ her… as in an acid trip or something," So this was definitely a spirit of some sort. Definitely vengeful.

"And Angela and Matt were a happy couple? I mean, no problems or fights that she was angry about?" I checked, and the woman's face scrunched in confusion.

"What? No, of course not. Why do you ask?" _The better question is why are you getting defensive?_ The conversation was clearly over, and I glanced at Dean to see he'd reached the same conclusion.

"Just wondering," I tried to shrug it off, and she seemed to accept that it had just been a weird question.

"Where did Matt live?" Dean questioned, and she wrote down the address on a piece of paper that Dean took as we headed towards the door.

"Aren't you going to take her stuff?" She inquired in confusion.

"We'll come back for it later," I promised her emptily before we left the house, shutting the door behind us. "So, vengeful spirit it is, then," I spoke to Dean as he gunned the engine, and we left the house to go to Matt's house.

"Right, the question is 'why?'. If Matt and Angela were a happy couple there'd be no reason for her spirit to kill him," I shook my head, just as confused as he was.

"Not so sure they were a happy couple," I admitted, causing Dean to glance at me.

"What do you mean?" He questioned.

"Well, did you see how defensive she got when I asked about them being happy?" Dean parked in the driveway in front of the address the woman had given us, and we began walking towards the door. I picked the lock easily, causing the door to swing open without so much as a squeak. There were still a few bloodstains, but for the most part they'd cleaned up the crime scene pretty thoroughly. After a quick scan of the house, we found nothing except some dead plants, particularly around where he'd died.

"You know, Angela's friend seemed pretty broken up about this guy's death," I nodded at Dean's assessment as we got into the Impala and drove back to the motel. We reached Sam's room, and Dean turned the key. Unfortunately, in the silence my hearing heightened and what I heard from inside the room was more than disturbing. The door swung open, and Sam switched off the porn he'd been watching. I could barely make myself walk inside and shut the door behind me.

"Hey," Dean and I stopped a few steps from his bed, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Awkward," Dean summed up the entire situation in one word.

"Where the hell were you two? You didn't come back last night,"

"We got another room down the hall," I glanced at Sam to see his face tighten at my words, and I frowned. It's not like we hadn't done that before on occasion. Why get angry now?

"We were out working our imaginary case. Oh, well, you were right. We didn't find much," I grinned at his words as Dean continued. "Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night - slit his own throat, but, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see. What else?" He glanced at me as he asked the question.

"He was also seeing her everywhere. You know, before he slit his own throat," I added, and Dean snapped his fingers pointing to me as if remembering the detail.

"That's right, but, you know, I'm sure that's just us transferring our own feelings," I folded my arms and leaned against the TV.

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry. Maybe there is something going on here," Sam conceded, and I gave him an incredulous look.

"Maybe? Sam, we are passed maybe," I told him, a bit miffed that he'd had such little faith in us.

"Yeah, we know how to do our job, despite what you might think," Dean snapped at him, and I put a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down. His tense muscles relaxed a bit, making me let out a small sigh of relief.

"We should check out the guy's apartment," Sam started, and then stopped as he saw Dean shaking his head as he sank into a chair.

"We just came from there… a pile of dead plants just like the cemetery. Hell, a dead goldfish, too," Dean informed him, and Sam frowned, processing the new information.

"So, unholy ground?" He questioned as I sat on the bed across from him.

"Possible, but Angela wasn't exactly the 'come back to haunt you' type of person," I told him. The only piece of the puzzle that was missing was Angela's motives for killing.

"I've been reading this, though," Dean held up a pink, leather book that even I hadn't seen him swipe from the house.

"You stole her diary?" I asked incredulously and a bit impressed.

"Yeah, and if anything the girl's a little too nice," Dean informed us, opening the book.

"So, what do you want to do?" Sam inquired.

"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends," Dean decided.

"Does the diary have anyone in particular?" I questioned, knowing that it most likely did.

"You kidding me?" He glanced up at me and smiled cockily. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world," He tossed the book to Sam before heading out the door, leaving us to follow him. The drive was a half hour, and the house we arrived at was blue with white doors and windows. Dean knocked on the door, and a young man around Sammy's age, maybe slightly younger, answered, coming out to stand on the porch with us.

"I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors," The boy told us skeptically after we'd finished creating our cover.

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "You talk, we listen, and maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage - whatever helps jump-start the healing," I resisted the urge to elbow Dean for his flippant tone. He may as well have been holding up a glowing, neon sign that said 'I'm Lying'.

"'Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks," He started back towards the house.

"But you heard what happened to Matt Harrison. Was he a friend of yours?" I questioned and saw his eyes harden with dislike.

"Yeah, I did, and no he wasn't," He answered stiffly.

"We just wanted to make sure _you _were okay," Sam added, and I knew without looking that he was giving the puppy dog eyes. "Grief can make people do crazy things,"

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am, but if Matt killed himself, it wasn't cause of grief," He stated, and my eyes snapped to his, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Then why would he do it?" I asked, and the boy took a deep breath before answering.

"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault, and he knew it," The boy spoke without blinking as he talked about his best friend's death.

"How was Matt responsible?" Sam questioned in confusion.

"She really loved that guy, but the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up. That's why she crashed the car," Silence followed his words as we took in what he'd just said. Motive… check. "Um, look, I got to get ready for work, so thanks for the concern, but, seriously, I'll be okay," He went inside, and I walked between Sam and Dean to the car.

"Well, that vengeful spirit theory is starting to make a little more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury," I let out a small laugh at that.

"So, if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked, and Dean glanced at me, making it clear we were thinking the exact same thing.

"There's only one way to know for certain," I voiced the thought, and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Burn the bones," Dean elaborated as I slid into the backseat, and he and Sam sat up front.

"Burn the bones?" Sam echoed incredulously. "Are you high?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, and I couldn't suppress the grin that spread across my lips. "Angela died last week,"

"And?" I questioned, still not understanding what the big deal is.

"And there's not going to be any bones. There's going to be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin," He stammered, looking at us in disbelief as if we'd grown a third head.

"Since when are you afraid to get dirty, huh?" Dean revved the engine, and we drove off.

_5 Hours Later_

I stood there watching Sam and Dean dig a rectangular pit in the middle of the cemetery with a shotgun propped up on shoulder, just in case Angela decided to make a guest appearance. Sam and Dean threw their shovels up, and I crouched down, shining my flashlight down the hole to illuminate both their faces as Dean pried open the coffin a bit before standing and turning to Sam.

"Ladies first," Sam glanced from Dean to me.

"Should that mean you open it?" I grinned at him.

"I'm holding the gun, Sammy," He rolled his eyes and squatted next to the coffin, heaving it open. My eyes widened when I took in the white, interior. It was empty. Shit.

"They buried the body four days ago," Dean spoke disbelievingly.

"How could it just disappear?" I questioned, not understanding what had happened. "Wait, what's that?" I shined my flashlight on a piece of ripped cloth to reveal symbols carved into the wood.

"I'm not sure," Sam muttered as both boys crouched down to get a better view while obscuring mine.

"I've seen these kinds of symbols before," He straightened, and I gave him a hand out of the grave as Sam took a picture of the symbols before closing the coffin and climbing out as well. They filled it in, and we left quickly.

-SPN-

Dean knocked angrily on the door to Angela's father's house. When there was no immediate response, he knocked again, louder this time.

"Dean, calm down, okay? We're still not sure it was him," I reasoned, trying to get him to relax. I was almost afraid of what would happen if the man answered the door with Dean looking as angry as he did now. Before Dean could reply, the door opened and a man came out in a grey t-shirt and a checkered robe.

"You're Angie's friends, right?" He questioned, looking half annoyed and half confused that we were at his doorstep.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance-" I began.

"We need to talk," Dean cut me off abruptly, causing me to throw a meaningful glance at him.

"Well, then, come in," He moved aside and let us through. We walked into the dining room area before turning to face him again.

"You teach ancient greek? Tell me… what are these?" Dean unfolded the paper and turned it around so the man could read them clearly. He glanced at the paper and then frowned at us.

"I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela," We hadn't explicitly stated that, but from his look it had been what he'd thought.

"It does," Dean answered shortly. "Please, just humor me," The man looked down at the paper again.

"They're part of an ancient greek divination ritual," He spoke, and something tugged at my brain. If he was really behind this all, why wouldn't he lie? He wasn't even attempting to hide the true meaning of the symbols.

"Used for necromancy, right?" I glanced at Dean worriedly. By his tone, it was clear that Dr. Mason was already a condemned man in his eyes, although I wasn't so sure.

"That's right," The man shifted uncomfortably under Dean's stare.

"See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently, they use rituals like this one for communication with the dead, even bringing corpses back to life - full-on zombie action,"

"Yeah," Her dad agreed, his eyes flicking to me uncertainly. "I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's all this about?"

"I think you know," Dean snapped, snatching the paper back from the older man.

"Dean," Sam began, but I knew it was no use.

"Look, I get it. There are people that I would give anything to see again, but what gives you the right?" Dean's glare grew harsher as his words grew sharper.

"Dean, stop," Dean's eyes snapped to mine, and I could see the pain clearly in his green eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Anger consumed the pain in his eyes as he turned back to the man.

"What's dead should stay dead!" He shouted, and the man glared back at him defensively.

"What?" The man asked, not understanding.

"Stop it!" Sam yelled at him, desperately trying to get Dean to calm down.

"What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore! These things are vicious, they're violent! They're so nasty, they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on! Haven't you seen 'pet sematary',"

"You're insane," The professor told him, trying to keep whatever calm he'd maintained.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded as the man stalked past us and picked up the phone.

"Get out of my house," He tried to command us without looking up from the phone.

"I know you're hiding her somewhere," My eyes met Sam's concerned ones, and that snapped me out of my shock and into motion. "Where is she?" Dean yelled, and I slipped around him to stand between him and Mr. Mason.

"Dean, stop it!" I placed both of my hands on his chest, forcing him back a step. "Look," I gestured to the windowsill where a variety of orchids were growing. "See? The plants aren't dead or wilting. She's not here. He's innocent," Dean whirled around and stormed out of the house. "Go after him, make sure he doesn't do anything," I ordered Sam, trying to regain some control over the situation. Sam was out the door in a heartbeat, following his brother as I turned to the man with the phone. "I'm so, so sorry about all of this,"

"I'm calling the police," He told me, clutching the phone with a white knuckled hand.

"Look, I know that it seems like that is probably the best move, but I can explain, okay? Just give me half a minute, and if you still want to call the police that's fine," The man lowered the phone slightly, but I kept my arms raised in surrender, palms facing the man.

"A couple weeks ago, his father past away suddenly. It was a car crash, too. I know that doesn't make up for what happened, but just, please. He's going through a really rough time,"

"He needs help," I glanced back at the door Dean had stormed out of a moment before looking back at Dr. Mason.

"I know," I conceded, dropping my eyes to the ground. "But I can't get him help if he's arrested," The man's eyes flicked to the phone for a moment before back at me, and he sighed, placing it on the receiver again.

"Listen, you seem like a nice enough girl. You should get as far away from him as you can," My teeth clenched for a moment, but I forced myself to breathe deeply and nod before walking out of the house.

"We better get out of here before the cops come," I heard Dean say just as I walked down the sidewalk to where the two brothers were standing.

"They aren't coming," Both boys turned to me in surprise. "I convinced him not to call them," My eyes fixed on Dean, and I saw the guilt, anger, and pain battling in his eyes. "I better not have to do it again," I grabbed the keys out of Dean's hand, fixing him with a glare when he tried to protest. "I'm driving," I glanced back to Sam. "I'm going to wait in the car," I stalked off to the car before sliding into the driver's seat. A moment later, Sam and Dean got into the car as well, and I began driving.

_-3rd Person-_

_ Dean Winchester sat on his bed staring numbly at the photograph he held between his fingers. His eyes were drawn to the two men who were farthest on the left. Both looked slightly annoyed but were smiling at the camera regardless. Jimmy Scott and John Winchester. Next was Jez. Her dark eyes were locked with the camera, and she had a bright smile on that seemed timeless somehow. His eyes dropped to where Sammy was standing near to the table, grinning widely and excitedly. Dean smiled as he looked at his kid brother's face in the picture. He'd just gotten the best final exam grade in the class, and he'd been ecstatic about it._

_ Inevitably, his eyes fell on the last two people in the photograph. He had his arms around Mel's waist, and she was leaning back against him so his was brushing hers. It was her smile that drew his attention. It was light and carefree, as if she would never and had never felt pain in her entire existence. Dean wondered if she'd ever smile like that again. She was wearing this cheesy party hat that he, Sam, and Jez had made her wear, even though she said she hated them for it._

_ He couldn't stand to look at the picture anymore, so he set it down beside him and got up, deciding he needed some air. Jez had been the first one to walk away from the funeral pyre. He and Sam had left together. He hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd said she was fine and that she needed a moment alone. She'd been out there for nearly an hour now, and he was starting to get worried about her. He descended the stairs quickly but stopped short when he reached the living room. A duffel was sitting on the couch, and Jez was packing a picture frame that held her and Mel smiling as they ate sat around a table._

_ "What are you doing?" He questioned, his tone darkening._

_ "Leaving," She responded tightly, barely glancing at him._

_ "What? Why?" No one had told him that Jez was leaving. "Does Mel know you're leaving?"_

_ "Yes, she does, and I can't do this anymore," She glanced down at the picture in her hands before shaking her head. "I'm getting out,"_

_ "What?" Was all he could think to say._

_ "I'm getting out," She repeated. "I'm leaving the life. I can't be a hunter anymore,"_

_ "You're just going to leave her here all by herself?" His words grew more and more heated as he grew angrier. "She needs you!"_

_ "Well, she'll have to live without me," Jez responded, seeming indifferent._

_ "How could you just run away?" Jez dropped the picture frame onto the table with a clatter and whirled to face Dean, her eyes glaring with a dark fury that would've made him step back if he hadn't been so furious._

_ "You think I'm running away?" She snapped at him. "I'm not running away! I'm escaping! Look what this life did to my family! Look what it did to yours! You of all people should know. Your mom-"_

_ "Don't talk about my mom!" Dean cut her off, beyond anger now._

_ "That world destroyed our lives! Hunting got my dad killed! I'm not going to let it do the same to me!" Jez yelled at him, only serving to make Dean's blood boil more._

_ "So you're leaving Mel-" He began but was cut off when she gave a mocking laugh._

_ "You're yelling at me for leaving her? That's rich coming from her ex-boyfriend!" She hurled the word at him like poison, and Dean felt as though she'd slapped him across the face. "What're you doing to help her? Hooking up with every pretty teenager dumb enough to sleep with you? Did you ever even love her?"_

_ "Shut up!" Dean snarled at her. "You know what? Go ahead! Leave! She's probably better off without you!" He turned but stumbled as he felt a sudden hard weight hit the back of his head. He whipped around to see Jez holding another shoe in her hand, and she hurled it at him but he ducked just in time. She grabbed the picture of her and Mel from the table and threw it like a throwing knife. He tried to get out of the way, but it caught his cheek. His hand flew to the newly made cut as he felt the sting of it travel down his cheek. _Did you ever even love her?

_ "You bitch!" He stalked towards her with every intention of throwing a punch before he heard a familiar voice from the doorway._

_ "Stop it! What the hell is going on?"_

"We can't just waste her with a head shot?" Dean demanded, pacing the small motel room while Sam and I sat on the bed finally done with the research we'd been doing all afternoon.

"Dud, you've been watching way too many Romero flicks," My mouth twitched up into a smile at Sam's words, but I wasn't about to argue with him.

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke them?" I shook my head as Dean misunderstood what we were telling him.

"No, there's too much," I corrected, sighing heavily. "There's at least three hundred different legends about zombies, and each one has a different method for killing them. Some say a stake through the heart, some say fire. My personal favorite is, what was it Sam, feeding their hearts to wild dogs?"

"Yeah," He agreed, getting up and sitting on the chair across from Dean. "But who knows what's real and what's myth?"

"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean checked.

"No, but a few said silver might work," Sam admitted, and Dean nodded.

"Silver's a start," I stood, regarding Dean as he spoke.

"Yeah, but there's one very important thing we're missing," Both boys looked to me in confusion at my words. "Angela," I pointed out. Without her it didn't matter if we decided to put her in a spaceship and fly her to the moon, we couldn't kill her. "We have to figure out who resurrected her,"

"Any ideas?" Sam questioned, glancing at Dean and then back to me.

"I think if it's not her dad, it might be that guy, Neal," Dean confessed his theory as he got up and headed to the diary.

"Neal?" Sam asked in disbelief. "How'd you come up with that?"

"Well, you got your journal, I got mine," He flipped through the pages before finding the right one and taking a breath. "'Neal's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt'," He slammed shut the book. "There's more here where that came from. It's got unrequited duckie love written all over it,"

"But how do you know he brought her back to life?" I inquired, glancing at Sam only to see him studying the black TV intently.

"Hmm, did I mention he's professor Mason's T.A.? Has access to all the same books," Dean pointed out, and I had to admit, there was a pretty strong case for it.

"Fine, let's go," I tossed Dean the keys back, and he headed out the door. I got up to follow, glancing back at Sam and frowning to see him still staring at the TV. "Sammy," His head snapped up to look at me. "Are you coming?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," I shrugged on my jacket, studying him in concern.

"Are you okay?" I took a step towards him, but he just stepped around me and headed towards the door at a fast walk.

"Yeah, fine, come on," I followed him out the door, not sure what had got him so freaked out.

We waited till dark until going to Neal's house, for I figured that he would be out at work or something late at night. It was eleven when we ascended the steps of his porch, and I knelt by the lock, picking it expertly before we slipped in.

"Hello?" Dean called, and I stiffened, waiting for Neal to come at us with a bat. Nothing happened. "Neal! It's your grief counselors. We've come to hug," I pressed my hand against my face to suppress the snicker, but I failed miserably, making Dean chuckle. Dean took out his gun and cocked it.

"Silver bullets?" Sam checked.

"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse," We made our way slowly through the house, every so often pausing to check around corners and make sure he wasn't hiding somewhere. I tapped Dean's shoulder and gestured to the dead plants that were set by the stopped beside a locked door that looked like it led to a basement or something. "Unless this is where he keeps his porn," I placed my hands on the lock slowly, and Dean nodded, causing me to yank the lock open and allow the door to swing inward. Nothing. We descended the steps to come to a small roomy place complete with a bed and TV.

"This must be where he keeps her," I noted, trying to take in everything.

"Yeah, and it's empty," Sam pointed out unnecessarily but nonetheless truly. Where was she? "You think's Angela's gone after somebody?" In answer to Sammy's question, I grabbed a metal grate on the far side of the room and slid it open to reveal her escape route.

"No, I think she just went for a nightly stroll through the garden," I quipped sarcastically, causing Dean to chuckle.

"Look, smartasses, she might kill someone," Sam told me seriously, making my smile drop. "We got to find her, guys,"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and I slid the grate shut. "All right, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right? Well, takes two to, you know, have hard-core sex," I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, my god," I hit Dean's shoulder as I figured it out, and then I was running up the stairs as fast as I could, hearing the boys following close behind me. I slid into the passenger's side as Dean got into the driver's seat and gunned the engine.

"Where are we going?" He questioned as he pulled out.

"Angela's roommate's house," I told him, and from his sharp intake, I could tell he had figured it out as well. It took us two minutes to get there with Dean's crazy speeding, but I wasn't complaining. I snatched Dean's gun and sprinted up the steps to find the door unlocked. Once inside, I raised the gun and fired. She spun, glaring at me and making an odd snarling sound, so I shot her again right in the chest, making her dash for the open window. I raced after her, hearing someone following me. I gave up trying to catch her and instead, raised the gun and cocked it.

"No!" Dean grabbed the gun from me before I could fire.

"What're you doing?" I snapped at him.

"You can't fire a gun in a residential area right out in the open!" Dean looked at me as though I was crazy. "The bullets don't work on her anyways,"

"They would've slowed her down enough for us to catch her," I argued, and he frowned at me in concern.

"Come on," I had no choice but to follow him back into the house. "Damn that dead chick can run," He announced to Sammy, who was holding Angela's terrified roommate.

"What now?" Sam asked, glancing at both of us.

"We should go talk to Neal," I reasoned, my adrenaline diminishing. Dean, Sam, and I went back to the car, and Dean slowly gunned the engine, driving away from the house.

"So, the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam questioned.

"Something isn't enough, Sam. What else did we find?" I glanced at the rearview to see Sam studying the journal.

"Okay, besides silver, we have 'nailing the undead back into their grave beds,'. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire-staking lore came from,"

"Their grave beds?" Dean echoed disbelievingly. "You serious?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Well, how are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery? I doubt she'll just lay in the coffin for us while we nail her in," Silence followed my words, making my eyes flick to the two boys in the car with me. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean muttered, his eyes returning to the road as Sam's fixed on the journal. We reached Neal's work, also known as Dr. Mason's office, and I closed my eyes to see if I could hear him.

"He's there," I told them, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to the door. I didn't bother knocking, and, instead, just opened the door and let myself in.

"What are you guys doing here?" Sam shut the door behind us as we ignored Neal's question.

"You know, I've heard of some people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you - you take the cake," Dean loomed over Neal, who was sitting at his desk.

"Okay, who are you guys?" He questioned, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"You might want to ask Angela that question," Dean told him.

"What?" There was a slight waver in his voice.

"We know what you did," Sam spoke firmly, and I saw his face go from confused to scared in a heartbeat.

"And before you ask or try to lie, yes we know everything, including the ritual," Neal just scoffed at my words.

"You're crazy," He denied.

"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date, and_ we're_ crazy? When someone's gone, they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff," Dean leaned on the desk, glaring at the kid.

"Angela killed her boyfriend. She would've killed Lindsey if we hadn't stopped her," I tried to make him see how bad this was.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean stalked around the desk and grabbed Neal by his collar, hauling him up.

"No more crap, Neal. This blood is on your hands. Now, me, him, and her can make this right, but you got to tell us where she is. Tell us!" Dean snapped, shaking the scared boy.

"My house," The kid broke. "She's at my house," Dean glanced at us, and then, suddenly his expression darkened. I followed his gaze to find some dead plants on the bookshelf. "You sure about that?"

"Come on, Dean. It doesn't really matter where she is," Dean's eyes flicked to mine in surprise. "We just have to perform the ritual over her grave that reverses the one that you did," My gaze moved to Neal as I spoke.

"Right, yeah. We're going to need some black root, some scar weed, candles. It's very complicated, but it will get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple of hours. I think you should come with us," Neal didn't move as he glared at us in suspicion. "I'm serious, Neal. Leave with us right now,"

"No," He shook his head stubbornly. "No,"

"Listen, kid," I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a whisper as I talked. "You're in way over your head. Leave here as soon as you can. Most importantly don't act abnormal. Everything's fine. If you give any sign, even a hint, that something's wrong, she will kill you," I turned, nodding to Sam and Dean, and we got the hell out of there.

_An hour later_

"You both really think this is going to work?" Sam asked us.

"No, not really, but it was the only thing I could think of given the time," I confessed. My head shot up as I heard a twig snap in the forest. "She's here," I announced quietly, and Dean cocked his gun in anticipation. I pulled out the gun I brought and cocked that one before standing.

"Sam, go," Dean ordered, and Sammy nodded, going out into the woods as I followed him with my ears.

"Wait!" I heard a distinctly female voice call. "It's not what you think. I didn't ask to be brought back, but I'm still me. I'm still a person,"

"She's trying to get him to take pity," I informed Dean. There was a resounding bang as a gun went off. "That would be his answer," Then, I heard the crackling of leaves and the crack of twigs as Sam ran from the zombie. "She has him," I sprinted towards where I heard the thud to see Angela had Sam's face in her hands, ready to snap his neck. I fired, making her fly backwards off of him. I fired again and again and again until she finally fell backwards into the grave, and Dean jumped down, jamming the silver pike into the sternum.

"What's dead should stay dead," We spent the rest of the night filling in the grave, and it was dawn by the time we finished.

"Rest in peace," Sam muttered, glancing down at the grave.

"Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean grinned, grabbing the shovel and his jacket before heading towards the car.

"Hey," My eyes flicked to Sam as he began to talk. "You know the whole fake-ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery - that was pretty smart,"

"Careful, Sam. That was almost a complement," I nudged him, earning a chuckle, before I sighed. "One man's cowardice,"

"What do you mean?" I glanced at him and shrugged.

"Well, if Neal had just told her how he felt about her from the beginning, none of this would've happened," I reasoned logically and saw Sam's face tighten slightly.

"Yeah, but she would've chose Matt over him," I frowned at Sam's tone.

"You don't know that. We don't always choose the popular jocks over the nerds, Sam," I pointed out, smiling slightly at his stereotyping.

"You think she would've been with Neal?" He sounded genuinely surprised at my assessment.

"I think he should have at least tried," I spoke truthfully before turning back towards the car.

"Mel," I looked back at Sam, who seemed to be debating something.

"What's taking you guys so long?" Dean slipped an easy arm around my waist, looking at Sam for an answer before glancing at me.

"Nothing. Let's go," Sam spoke shortly, walking passed us and heading for the car. Dean's eyes found mine questioningly, but all I could do was shrug in response. That had been weirder than usual. We were almost to the car when Dean froze beside me, and I followed his gaze to see Mary's grave.

"Come on," I stepped back to take his hand in both of mine and slowly lead him towards his mother's grave.

"Mel," He began hesitantly. "It's just a grave,"

"No, it's your mom, Dean," We reached the grave and gazed at the pinkish orange headstone. "I remember when we were younger, she used to make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while we played in the yard or at your dad's garage,"

"She made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Dean agreed softly, and I let out a small laugh.

"You were obsessed with them," I remembered, causing him to chuckle lightly.

"Just like you with those cakes my dad used to bring home from the store," I laughed, recalling the delicious sponge cake that John used to bring home as an apology to his wife for being late.

"I miss them," Dean confessed, and I tightened my hands around his.

"Me too," I agreed softly, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Come on," Dean spoke up after a few moments of silence. "Let's go," We took our time getting back to the Impala, and when we did, I slid into the back with out protest, my hand slipping out of Dean's. We'd only been driving for twenty or thirty minutes, and I had my eyes shut and my legs across the two backseats when Dean pulled the car over. On instinct, I didn't move from my position, and Dean and Sam got out of the car.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam's voice spoke up.

"I'm sorry," Dean answered after a moment of silence, but I could tell there was more coming.

"For what?" Sam questioned disbelievingly.

"The way I've been acting," He replied, and another small silence stretched on until he finally broke it, his words nearly making my heart stop. "And for dad. Well, he was your dad, too. It's my fault that he's gone,"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked uneasily, but he knew what Dean was talking about. We all did.

"I know you've been thinking it. So have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. It was a miracle, and five minutes later, dad's dead, and the colt is gone," Sam tried to stop him, but Dean just continued on. "You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly, but dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know,"

"We don't know that, not for sure," Sam tried to deny it, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, wishing I _was _asleep.

"Sam…" Dean cut him off. "You, Mel, and dad… you're the most important people in my life, and now… I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural, and now look what's come of it. I was dead, and I should've stayed dead," I swallowed hard, the memory all too vivid. "You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well that's it. So tell me, what could you possibly say to make that all right?"

-SPN-

"Hey, are you okay?" I turned to face Dean, who had snapped me out of my thoughts. All I seemed to be able to think about was that conversation he'd had with Sam.

"Yeah, fine," I told him shortly. I wasn't sure why I was angry, but I just was. It was a deep, burning anger that infuriated me till I could barely see straight. I turned to go when Dean grabbed my arm and forced me to face him again.

"You're not okay. What is it?" I studied him for a moment.

"I heard what you said to Sammy," I informed him flatly, and he sighed. "It's not your fault,"

"Mel, it is my fault," He began, his eyes moving to the floor. "I don't know what happened, but it's pretty obvious he died to save me,"

"Dean-" I started only to be cut off.

"There's nothing say. It's my fault-"

"It's not your fault because it's mine," I interrupted him, and he took a step back, frowning at me.

"What're you talking about?" I closed my eyes briefly, taking a big breath before opening them.

"I saw John in the hospital right before you woke up. He was in the basement with this weird - weird chalk symbols drawn into the ground. He had the colt. He told me he was trading the colt for your life," My eyes had drifted to the ground, and I forced myself to look up at Dean. Betrayal was clearly written in his eyes as he stared at me in shock and anger.

"And you just left him?" Dean asked quietly, but I didn't respond. "How could you just leave him?!" He yelled at me, glowering.

"I didn't know he was going to give his life, Dean! I thought he was just giving up the colt to save his son!" I snapped back.

"You should've stopped him!" Those words turned my veins to fire, and I fixed him with a dark glare.

"Dean, you were dying! I couldn't just let you die! He was going to save your life!" I tried desperately to make him understand why I'd done it. A small part of me thought maybe if Dean forgave me, I could start forgiving myself.

"I should have died!" A deadly silence followed his words, and then whatever shred of composure I was holding on to snapped.

"Really, Dean? Then I should've died in that lake when I was eighteen!" He just stared at me in a stunned silence, but I wasn't done. "I watched you die, Dean! You said you wouldn't leave me, and I had to watch you flatline!" I attacked him, shoving him backwards.

"Mel-" He began, but I couldn't care less about what he wanted to say.

"My dad died to save my life! Jez might die! You flatlined! I thought I'd lost you!" Dimly, I realized I was crying, but I couldn't stop now. I shoved him again, and he grabbed my wrists, making me struggle against him. "Let go of me! It's all my fault! Your dad should've killed that thing when he had the chance! Then he'd still be alive and Jez wouldn't be in danger and you and Sam would be fine! It's all my fault! It's all my-" I broke off into a gut-wrenching sob. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault," Dean pulled me into his chest and held me against him as I sobbed, my hands clinging to his jacket like I was drowning and it was my lifeline. "It's all my fault," I repeated the mantra over and over again until the words grew meaningless.

"It's not. It's not your fault, okay?" We sunk to the floor, but I barely noticed. "It's going to be all right. I promise. I'm not going anywhere. It's not your fault," Eventually I stopped whispering. I even stopped sobbing. But Dean's arms remained wrapped around me tightly, and he never stopped telling me it was going to be okay.


	5. Simon Said

****So, so, so sorry I haven't updated in about a month and a half, but everything was so chaotic with the holiday season that I had no time to do anything! I'll try to be faster from now on! Hope you all like this update! Please review and PM what you think!****

_Simon Said_

"What is taking him so long?" Dean grumbled, glancing in the rearview mirror to see the motel door that Sammy still hadn't come out of. I sighed in annoyance before opening my door and getting out of the car before slamming it behind me.

"I'll go check on him," I leaned through the open window as I spoke, but as soon as I finished, I straightened and walked into the surprisingly quaint motel room again. We'd just finished a job the day before in Ames, Iowa, so we had been driving for the majority of the night before I'd finally convinced the boys to check into the Blue Mountain Inn. "Sam-" The words caught in my throat as I saw the boy hunched over the sink. My eyes zeroed in on his white-knuckled grip on the edges, and my ears caught his labored breathing. It took a split second for me to register all of that, and in four steps I was beside him, my eyebrows furrowing in worry. "Sam, what-" As soon as I put my hand on his arm, a jot seemed to go through me, and pain exploded behind my eyes.

_"Don't leave enough turkey behind if you ask me,"_ _A pale, burly man was giving a rifle to a taller, bigger, dark skinned man. At least, I think they were men. The shapes were fuzzy and hard to make out as if I had been wearing glasses my entire life and suddenly took them off._

_ "What, uh, what sort of shells does it use?" The second man had a deeper voice, and I could tell just by his confused, apprehensive voice that something was wrong. They were in a gun shop, that much was for certain. The dark-skinned man was buying a gun from the other man who seemed to be behind some sort of display. There was a light thud that I assumed was a box of shells that the owner had set down on the display._

_ "Right here. I'm taking the boys up to the cabin this weekend, if you're, uh…" The owner stammered a bit, and I could hear a few clicks, which meant that the other man was loading the gun. "I mean, if you think you might like to take up the sport," The buyer laughed as if that was the most ridiculous joke he'd heard in months._

_ "Thanks, but no. You know guns make me nervous. Always have," Something was wrong. "This one goes in here, right?" There was a click that I knew all too well as the cocking of a rifle._

_ "Whoa, doc! No, no, you can't load a weapon on the premises. It's illegal!" The owner now had his hands up, I think, but the other man showed no signs of being even slightly fazed._

_ "It's okay, Dennis," Something was off about the man's voice as he ignored the owner, Dennis's protests. "It's okay, Dennis. It's al gonna be…okay,"_

_ "Doc!" There was a lout bang and the owner flew back and hit the wall, or maybe it was a door. A woman screamed, and the noise was taken up by a man on the other side of the store._

_ "No, no, it's okay. It's okay. It's all gonna be…" The gun turned so the barrel was pressed against the man's chin. "…Okay," Boom._

I gasped, staggering backwards until my back was pressed against the wall of the bathroom. Sam was panting and shaking, and I was pretty sure that I didn't look any better. I tried to slow my breathing as my hazel orbs met Sam's wide brown ones. What just happened?

"Sam? Mel? What's the hold up? Come on, let's hit the… road," Dean stopped in the doorway, frowning as he took in Sam's disheveled appearance before his eyes turned to me. I'm sure I didn't look much better. "What happened?"

"I know where we need to go," Sam announced pushing past Dean and heading for the Impala.

"He had a vision,"

"What do you mean 'you saw it, too'?" Dean questioned disbelievingly even though I'd explained it twice now.

"I told you, I walked in, saw Sam by the sink, touched his arm, and all of a sudden I could see the gun shop," Dean glanced at me from where he had been focusing on the road.

"And your sure we should go to the Roadhouse?" Dean double checked, causing me to nod determinedly. I knew that Dean was hating how helpless he felt about everything, but we needed to figure this out.

"What else do you think we should do?" I returned the question with a question, throwing my arms out to the side in frustration. Despite how much we'd tried to go at this logically and find out what was happening we still had almost nothing!

"I don't know, okay? Why don't we just chill out, think about this?" Dean tried to reason, and Sam reached up from the backseat to switch off the music and glare at his brother.

"What's there to think about?" He demanded, and I could almost feel an argument coming.

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea," Dean tried to stay calm, but I could tell he was getting frustrated as well.

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. And Mel could see it too just by touching me. That has to mean something," Sam insisted.

"He's right. What he saw in the gun shop is gonna happen, and we need Ash to tell us where," I pointed out, and Dean turned his attention back tot he road.

"Besides, it could be connected to the demon. My visions always do," Sam brought up a valid argument. We needed to find the demon and get some answers. Then we'd kill it. Not necessarily in that order.

"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if - if going in and announcing that you're both supernatural freaks with demonic connections is the best thing, okay?" I felt as though he'd just smacked me in the face.

"So we're freaks now?" I questioned, and when his eyes met mine, I could read the regret in them.

"You've always been freaks," He winked at me, and my mouth quirked at his reply. It worked; I did feel slightly better. It took another five minutes to get to the Roadhouse, and Dean parked in front. We got out and headed for the door, Dean slipping an arm around my waist as we walked. I briefly wondered if Max was still here. Last I'd heard, he had decided to take up Ellen's offer of a spare room in the back. I ignored the looks from other hunters as we walked up to Jo, who was standing in front of the counter.

"Just can't stay away, huh?" She questioned us, grinning slightly. I let out a small laugh at her cheekiness.

"Looks like it. How are things?" I replied, glancing around, and her smile stiffened slightly causing me to frown. Her eyes turned hard and hostile as they fell on me.

"FIne," Her response was curt, and I glanced at Dean before looking back at Jo uncertainly. Last time I'd left we'd been on good terms, so why the sudden hostility?

"Where's Ash?" Sam cut into our tense conversation.

"In his back room," She responded, jerking her chin to the right.

"Sorry. He's - we're kind of on a bit of a timetable," Dean apologized as we moved around her to follow Sam. We reached the room in the back that I assumed was Ash's, for it had a wooden sign nailed to it that read 'Dr. Badass is in' in big, bold letters.

"Ash?" Sam called as he knocked loudly on the door. "Ash?" He called again, and I didn't need my abilities to hear the TV that was playing loudly from inside. Sam knocked again. "Hey, Ash?" Finally, he leaned against the doorframe and gave us an exasperated look.

"Hey, Dr. Badass?" Dean tried, knocking on the door as well. There was the click of the lock from inside, and Dean shot Sam a smirk before Ash opened the door. It took me a stunned moment to register that he was absolutely buck naked before I snapped my head to the side and Dean's hand covered my eyes, making me work to stifle a laugh.

"Sam. Dean. Mel," He sniffed loudly after he said all of our names. I didn't remember ever feeling more awkward. "Sam and Dean and Mel,"

"Hey, Ash, why aren't you-" I started to ask the question that I'm sure we all wanted to ask when Sam cut me off.

"We need your help," Sam spoke with awkward urgency.

"Hell, then, guess I need my pants," The door shut, and Dean and I made our way back to the bar at a fast walk.

"Mel?" My head snapped up at the familiar voice, and I smiled when I saw who was walking towards me, leaving Dean's side to greet him.

"Max, hey," I hugged him tightly before letting go and stepping back. "How've you been?" He shrugged, glancing back at Ellen and Jo, who were tending the bar.

"I bartend now," He told me, and I laughed slightly.

"You, Maxwell Stith, have a job?" I could not believe that was true.

"Well, between hunts, but yeah," He shrugged again. "It's not so bad,"

"Weren't you the one that once said 'having a job is like binding yourself to the devil'?" Max rolled his eyes but cracked a smile.

"Times change," He confessed, glancing backwards again, and I smiled slightly at him. "So, how've you been holding up?" His voice lost its joking tone and grew serious.

"Fine," It was my turn to shrug unconcernedly.

"How about your boys?" I glanced at where Sam and Dean had taken a seat at the counter.

"They're alright. We're managing," I tried to sound confident, but it was strained. Truth was, I was starting to feel like the three of us were standing on the edge of a cliff, never knowing when we could fall off. Dean was hiding something, that much I was sure. He had been acting off ever since John's death. Sam was on edge constantly. He was worried, really worried. And me, I'd already lost it once with Dean in that motel room a few weeks ago. I didn't want to loose it again.

"If you ever need anything, we're here," Max nodded backwards to encompass Jo, Ellen, and Ash in his statement.

"Thanks, Max," I smiled slightly before my attention focused on Sam and Dean, who had begun to talk to Ash. "I should get back to them," I told him, and he nodded understandingly. I took a seat next to Dean when I'd reached them.

"It's the logo for the Blue Ridge bus lines," Ash was explaining what he'd found based on Sam's sketch of the bus logo. "Guthrie, Oklahoma,"

"Okay, do me a favor, check Guthrie for any demonic signs or omens or anything like that," Sam told him, and Ash began typing furiously.

"You think the demon is there?" Ash questioned curiously.

"Yeah, maybe," He replied.

"Why would you think that?" Ash asked, and I instantly grew wary of his curiosity.

"Just check it, all right?" Dean demanded from where he was now standing behind Ash.

"Please," I added as Ash glared at Dean for his tone. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the man had a problem with authority. His eyes fixed on me for a moment before he went back to typing.

"No, ma'am, nothing. No demon," Ash announced, and I was leaning back in my seat dejectedly when an idea hit me.

"What about a house fire?" I inquired, and Ash turned his eyes on me, his brow furrowed. "Can you search Guthrie for a house fire? It should be…" I did a quick mental calculation. "…1983. Should've started in a nursery when the kid was six months," I didn't take my eyes off the screen as I asked the question, but I could feel Ash looking at Sam and Dean.

"Okay, now that is just _weird_. Why the hell would I be looking for that?" He asked me, and I took my eyes away from the screen to focus on his face, but before I could answer, Dean did.

"'Cause there's a PBR in it for you," Dean set the beer down beside Ash's laptop on the table.

"Give me fifteen minutes," I grinned at Ash's response before Dean and I left his side to sit down at a table on the opposite side of the bar. 'Can't fight this feeling' started playing on the jukebox, and I glanced up to see Jo walking away from it to sit beside Max. A small smile formed on my lips.

"What?" My eyes flicked to Dean briefly before I nodded at where Max and Jo were talking.

"They'd be cute together," Dean looked back at them and shrugged. "Maybe you could stop hating him,"

"I don't hate him," Dean protested, but I just raised an eyebrow at him. "What can I say? Guy's a dick,"

"He's changed," I'd been trying to get Dean to see that for years now.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, regarding his beer for a moment before taking another drink from it and turning to me. He studied my features intently, as if he was memorizing them.

"What?" I furrowed my brow, which made his mouth twitch up in a brief smile.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am," I glanced away from him briefly before looking back.

"Okay, what's wrong?" I was done with this. I loved him with all of my soul, but something was wrong. Dean wasn't normally this… openly romantic. He was hiding something, and it had been eating away at him for a while now.

"What?" Dean seemed surprised by the question. "Why do you think something's wrong?"

"Because I know you," I replied, and his eyes returned to the beer in his hands.

"You're right," He faced me again, and I met his eyes, waiting for him to continue. "They would be cute," His eyes flicked to Max and Jo and then back to me. I scoffed at the poorly veiled change in subject. "Even if she does like R.E.O. Speedwagon,"

"Hey, Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart," Sometimes with Dean it was better to accept that he'd tell me when he was ready.

"He sings it from the hair. There's a difference," I laughed lightly, conceding his point.

"Sounds good either way," I pointed out, and Dean grinned. The sound of bickering reached my ears, and I glanced back at where Jo was now standing and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at Max, who looked frustrated.

"Trouble in paradise?" I hit Dean on the arm lightly as he chuckled. "I meant it, you know," I turned back to him to see him already gazing at me. "I am lucky," I smiled slightly as he leaned towards me, and his lips brushed mine.

"That profile you've got Ash looking for?" Dean pulled away from me and sighed in annoyance before straightening in his seat. We both turned to face Jo, who set down the empty glasses she was carrying on the counter. "You moms died the same way, didn't they? A fire in the nursery?" Dean and I both tensed as she talked, and I reached in front of Dean to take a drink of his beer as he answered. I needed a drink.

"Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing," He started uncertainly.

"I could help," She insisted.

"I know you could," I set the beer down on the table, and her eyes turned hard again as she looked at me. "This is just something we have to do alone. Besides, if you came with us on a hunt, I think your mother might kill us," My eyes passed Jo and landed on Ellen who was cleaning glasses at the far side of the bar.

"You're afraid of my mother?" Jo challenged, raising her eyebrows at us.

"I think so," Dean answered for both of us as Jo smirked. Just then, Sam walked up to us, his face telling us everything we needed to know.

"We have a match. We got to go," He held up the file in his hand, and Dean and I stood.

"See you later, Jo," I gave her a small, strained smile as she gave me a hard look. I'd have to ask Ellen why she hated me so much. I thought we were fine.

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting with my back against the door behind Dean's seat and my legs resting on the backseats of the Impala as we rode towards Guthrie, Oklahoma. Dean was singing 'Can't Fight This Feeling' while he drove, and Sam and I were trying to learn what we could from the files that Ash had printed.

"You're kidding, right?" I glanced up at Sam's annoyed face as he looked at Dean.

"The song was playing back at the Roadhouse," I explained for him. I had kind of accepted it without noticing and was able to concentrate on the file without being distracted. Apparently Sam wasn't so lucky.

"I can't get it out of my head," Dean added, looking almost embarrassed. "I don't know, man. What do you got?"

"Andrew Gallagher," Sam read off the file. "Born in '83, like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, like me and Mel,"

"You think the demon killed his mom?" Dean questioned.

"Looks that way," I answered, studying the picture of his driver's license.

"How did you know to look for this guy?" This time, Dean's question was directed at me.

"All of Sam's premonitions are related to the demon or his… children. Remember Max Miller?" I swallowed the painful memory of the boy that I couldn't save.

"Yeah, but Max Miller was a basic, little psycho," I flinched at Dean's flippant words. He wasn't a psycho. He just had a hard past. I glanced up and caught Sam looking at me before his eyes flicked to Dean again.

"_Point is_ he was killing people, and I was having the same type of visions about him, and now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy,"

"How do we find him?" Dean thankfully moved away from the topic of Max Miller.

"That's going to be difficult," I rejoined the conversation. "There's no current address, and no employment either. He also owes money on all of his bills - water, phone, credit, electricity."

"Collection Agency flags?" Dean questioned.

"Not in the system," Sam replied, making me frown. That was odd. Maybe it had something to do with his abilities.

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean reiterated in shock.

"Seems like it," Sam confirmed, just as surprised as Dean.

"Oh, here," I found something that could be useful. "There's a work address from his last job about a year ago. We should start there, ask around," I reasoned and both boys nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>"You won't get anything out of Andy, guys," The woman pouring our coffee, who's name was Tracy, informed us apologetically. "I'm sorry, but they never do,"<p>

"'They'?" Sam prompted.

"You're debt collectors, right?" She checked with us, but didn't wait for a response. "Once in a while, they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back,"

"Actually, we're lawyers," Dean told her. "Representing his great-aunt Lita. She passed - God rest her soul - but left Andy a sizable estate," Dean made that up on the spot.

"Yeah," I agreed, refocusing my attention on her. "You're a friend of his?"

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore," She looked down at her hands, her face twisting into an expression of sorrow and nostalgia. It only took me a moment to realize that look. She loves him.

"Andy?" Another boy with a cloth over his shoulder set down a tray on our table. "Andy kicks ass, man," He sat down like he owned the place.

"Is that right?" Dean asked him.

"Yeah, Andy can get you into anything. Man, he even got me backstage at Aerosmith once. It was beautiful, bro," The man spoke, grinning in excitement.

"How about busing a table or two, Webber?" Webber glanced up at Tracy, who had put a hand on her hip and was looking down at him admonishingly.

"Yeah, you bet, boss," He took the tray and headed into the back of the restaurant. I frowned at the chill that came over me; the restaurant was actually quite warm.

"Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with the barbarian queen painted on the side," She informed us, and my eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Barbarian queen?" Dean echoed.

"She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss," We paid and left the restaurant to go in search of the van with a barbarian queen riding a polar bear painted on the side. We found it exactly where she said we would. Orchard Street.

"I'm sorry. I'm starting to like this dude," Dean confessed, and I didn't blame him. I was starting to like him, too. "That van is _sweet,_" I laughed, glancing back at Sam only to frown.

"What?" Dean glanced back as well at my question.

"Nothing," Sam answered.

"You look like you have a lemon in your mouth. What's wrong?" I prompted, and finally, Sam sighed and gave in.

"This Andrew Gallagher - he's the second guy like this we've found, guys. Demon came to them when they were kids. Now they're killing people," Sam stated the facts, and I swallowed hard. Truth be told, I had been trying to keep thoughts like that at bay for a while now. Ever since Max.

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, okay? Could be innocent," Dean denied.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet," Sam pointed out.

"But you didn't actually _see_ Andrew Gallagher there," I spoke logically. "Maybe it's something else,"

"And someone whose mother died exactly the same way as ours just _happens_ to be here?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"What's your point?" Dean snapped, getting a bit annoyed with Sam's pessimism.

"My point is I'm one of them. So is Mel," My breath caught in my throat as he spoke the words I'd been thinking since Max.

"No, you're not. Neither of you are like them," Dean argued.

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for us and children like us," Dean looked away when Sam mentioned when the demon had spoken to us. It was hard to forget that.

"Yeah?" He looked back, his eyes expressionless.

"What if this is his plan? Maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks. Maybe we're all supposed to be-"

"Killers?" I finished for him, causing him to stop his rant. "Sam, just because we met one, maybe two, kids that turned out that way doesn't mean it's going to happen to us. We're not murderers, Sam,"

"She's right. Neither of you could be murderers. You don't have it in your bones," Dean backed me up.

"No?" Sam echoed, and it was obvious what he was thinking of as he turned to meet my eyes. "Last I checked, we kill all kinds of things,"

"Those things deserve it. And they're not humans," I spoke with an air of finality that put an end to our conversation. Sam slid back in the backseat, and I glanced at Dean to see he'd turned away to look out the window. Wordlessly, I slid my finger's through his and felt his hand tighten around mine. I turned my attention out the passenger's window so neither boy would be able to read the doubt and fear in my eyes. Suddenly, my eyes caught the familiar face coming out of one of the doors. "There," I pointed to the man who was walking towards his van. He looked up and waved, making my eyes flick up to the pretty blonde, who was in a bathrobe and looked smitten. My eyebrows rose at the league difference there. He turned away and continued up the street before stopping to talk to a man. In four seconds flat the man had given Andrew his coffee and continued on.

"That's him, that older guy. That's him. He's the shooter," I followed Andrew to where he shook hands with the dark-skinned man from the vision.

"Well, you two keep on him. I'll stick with Andy," Dean instructed, and I nodded.

"Be careful," I kissed Dean briefly before getting out of the car with Sam.

"Always am," Dean replied cockily, which made me roll my eyes but smile. I usually don't kiss Dean every time we separate on a job, but I had this weird feeling that I should. I shook it off and focused on tailing the man in the brown suit. We tailed him all the way down Chesnut Avenue before he made a right onto Washington Street. That's when his cell rang, and he answered.

"Can you hear who it is?" Sam asked me, and I held up a finger, concentrating on the phone.

"Hello?" The man answered.

_ . . . ._ I sucked in a sharp breath and stepped back, clutching my head. The words echo, overlap and envelop each other in a way that I really didn't like.

"What? What is it? Mel?" Sam's concerned voice brought me back to the present, and I shook my head.

"The voice on the other line sounds weird. Like… echoey," I shook my head again. "Come on," I ran across the street with Sam hurrying after me. I didn't slow down until I was inside the gun shop, and then I looked around for a way to stop what was about to happen. I found it. Sam had just entered when I pulled the fire alarm, setting off an obnoxious blaring noise. Sam and I descended the steps to see the Impala going by, but it wasn't Dean in the front seat, it was Andrew.

"Is that…" Sam trailed off. What was going on here. Suddenly, my attention was caught by the ring of a phone. This time, I just focused on the doctor's side of the conversation.

"Hello?…Yeah… All right," The man snapped the phone shut, and I glanced at Sam to see that he was on the phone as well.

_He just sort of asked me for it and I let him take it._

"You what?" Sam questioned incredulously. Mind control. Andrew Gallagher could control people's minds. I looked back across the street to find the man was walking towards the end of the street. And then I _knew_ what was going to happen. All the pieces clicked together, and I began sprinting towards the doctor. "Mel!" I ignored Sam's shouts as I saw the man beginning to cross the street during a green light.

"Hey, stop!" I tried yelling at the man who was inches from his death. He didn't even slow down at my shout.

"Melody!" Sam screamed just as I reached the suicidal man. Suddenly, I was yanked backwards just as the bus plowed into the doctor. I turned to see who had saved me, but the man brushed past me quickly, running into the gathering crowd. I made a move to follow him, but another grip on my arm prevented me.

"Mel, are you okay? What were you thinking?" Sam's worried voice brought my attention to him, and I blinked, shaking my head to rid myself of all other thoughts.

"He was going to kill himself, Sam. Of course I was going to try to help him," I stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You almost got yourself killed," He snapped angrily.

"I'm fine, aren't I?" I gestured down at myself, and Sam let out a noise of frustration in the back of his throat.

"Another second and you wouldn't have been," I sighed heavily. Honestly, I hadn't even registered the danger. I'd just realized that if I didn't do something an innocent man was going to die. "If it hadn't been for the guy that pulled you out of the way-"

"Did you see him?" I questioned, interrupting Sam. I knew he was worried about me and scared for my safety, but something inside of me wouldn't let me worry about how close I'd come to an early grave. Something inside of me urged me to find out who my rescuer had been.

"No, he was wearing a hoodie," Sam's breathing was returning to normal now. "Don't do something like that again," I nodded, my legs shaking slightly as the adrenaline and shock began to wear off.

"Not planning on it," My voice shook slightly as I realized just how close I'd come to being a pancake. The air was already filling with sirens, and Sam and I walked farther down the road to see the body of the man that had been hit. The police began asking the crowd questions, and, of course, everybody pointed to me. "Did you tell Dean where we were?" Sam felt his pockets for a moment before a look of realization crossed his face.

"I dropped my phone by the gun store," As if on cue, mine rang, and I handed it to Sam, who nodded and answered.

"Excuse me, Miss," I focused on the police officer that was looking at me. "Would you mind telling me what happened?" I nodded, and he took out a pencil and paper.

"I was over there by the gun store and the man-"

"Dr. Jennings," The officer interrupted.

"Dr. Jennings," I corrected myself, smiling a strained smile. "Started crossing the street. I saw the bus coming and started running towards him," I stuck to the truth for the most part. I left out the bit about the phone calls and the gun store, but other than that I was honest. I was rescued by someone I didn't know. He ran off before I could get a good look.

"Mel!" I glanced up to see Dean walking over quickly. He kissed me passionately for a moment before pulling back and cradling my face between his hands. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm okay," I answered, glancing at the police officer, who was looking away uncomfortably. "Am I done?"

"Yeah, I've got everything," Dean, Sam, and I sat down a small ways away on a short wall that surrounded one of the trees that lined the road.

"I heard the bus, and I saw him crossing the road," I spoke, breaking the silence. "I thought if I could get to him," Dean's arms tightened around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I felt his lips pressed to my hair.

We walked for six blocks before we found the Impala parked outside Tracy's restaurant, and I'd never felt more relieved to see the Impala in my life. The first part of the walk, Dean had glared at Sam and snapped at him for not paying attention and helping me with Dr. Jennings. The second half was spent complaining about the car. Dean wasn't having the best day.

"Thank God!" Dean exclaimed when the Impala came into view. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again,"

"You talking to me or the car?" I questioned, causing Sam to let out a small laugh.

"I can't be talking about both?" Dean grinned, pecking me on the lips again before sliding into the driver's seat.

"Hey, he left the keys in it," I jerked my chin at the car keys that were still in the ignition.

"Yeah, real samaritan, this guy," Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"It looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose," Dean switched to hunter mode, and I nodded in agreement.

"Right he has to speak to them. The doctor had just hung up his cell," I remembered.

"Andy must've called him or something," Sam agreed.

"I don't know maybe," Dean sounded unsure as he spoke.

"Beg your pardon?" Sam asked incredulously, but I agreed with Dean. I wasn't so sure it was Andy. I mean, the guy had a barbarian queen painted on the side of his van.

"I just don't know if he's our guy," Dean told him.

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white bronco, and you have doubts about this?" Sam questioned.

"I agree, Sam. Andy doesn't seem like a killer to me," I argued, and Sam scoffed at our doubts.

"Exactly," Dean agreed, glancing at me before turning back to Sam. "And O.J. was guilty,"

"Either way, how are we gonna track this guy down?" Sam asked, throwing his hands out to the side in exasperation.

"Not a problem," I glanced at Dean to see he had that sexy smirk spread across his lips. We got in and he drove to where Andy had left his blue van. We walked up to the back of it, and Dean turned to face us.

"Not exactly an inconspicuous ride. Let's have a look," Dean popped the lock and opened the doors. "Oh, come on," My jaw popped open as I took in Andy's home. "This is - this is magnificent. That's what this is,"

"Still think he's a killer?" I questioned, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah, there's no clown paintings on the walls or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger," Dean mused, getting sidetracked by the large painting of the animal that took up an entire wall.

"Hegel? Kant? Wittgenstein?" Sam went through his books."That's some pretty heavy reading, guys,"

"Yeah, not to mention Moby Dick's bong," I held up the thing that was longer than my arm. Well, I was convinced. Andrew Gallagher wasn't a killer.

* * *

><p>Dean made a noise of disgust as he finished his fast food burger. Mine lay on the dashboard in front of me, two thirds uneaten. Usually, I would've eaten it anyway; I'd grown used to crappy food, but this burger was particularly bad.<p>

"You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a minimart," Dean complained.

"I second that," I agreed, making a face as I realized I could still taste the burger on the roof of my mouth.

"What I don't get is the motive. I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean," Sam went on with the case, ignoring our wishful thinking. "Why would Andy waste him?"

"If it is Andy," I reminded him. The more I thought about it, the more confident I grew that it wasn't Andy.

"Guys, enough," Sam finally gave into his annoyance.

"Why?" Dean demanded.

"The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math," Sam laid out the facts.

"I just have a feeling he isn't the guy we're looking for,"

"Well, how the would either of you know? Why are you two bending backwards defending him?" Sam snapped at us.

"'Cause you're not right about this," Dean told him defiantly.

"About Andy?" He questioned.

"Hey!" There was a thud on the roof, and then Andy's face appeared outside my window, causing me to have a mini heart attack. "You think I haven't seen you three?" His eyes flicked back to where Sam was sitting in the backseat and then focused on Dean. "Why are you following me?" I barely made out the words, for they had the same effect as the voice on the phone, but I could control it slightly better now. They were still distorted and echoey, but I could make out what they were.

"We're lawyers," I spoke, praying that Dean wouldn't say anything. "A relative of yours-"

"Tell the truth!" I was getting better at cutting out the echoey distortion of the words and just hearing them. I barely even flinched that time.

"What do you think I'm doing-" I began.

"We hunt demons," Dean interrupted me, and I turned my wide eyes on him in surprise.

"What?" Andy asked incredulously.

"Dean-" My hand clutched his shoulder tighter.

"Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Mel here is my girlfriend, and behind me that's Sam, my brother," He continued in a slightly strained voice.

"Dean, shut up," Sam hissed at him.

"I'm trying," He got out, glancing at Sam then me then back at Andy. "Their psychic, like you. Well, not really like you, but Sam thinks your a murderer. Mel thinks your not. We were arguing before you got here. They're afraid they're gonna become murderers themselves cause you're all part of something that's terrible. I hope to hell that they're wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that they might be right. I'm worried-" I efficiently shut him up by pressing my lips to his. His tense muscles relaxed slowly, and I pulled away when I heard Sam's car door open.

"Stay here," I told Dean, who just nodded, holding his head in his hand and groaning slightly. For a moment, I debated staying, but I got out in case Sam needed backup.

"What are you doing?" Andy held his hands out to stop the determined Sam. "L-look, I said _leave me alone,_" I fell into step beside Sam. "Get out of here. _Just start driving and never stop!_"

"Andy, just listen. It doesn't work on us," I held up my hands in surrender, and put a hand on Sam's shoulder to stop his advance.

"What?" He took a step away from us.

"You can make people do things, right? You can say things and they'll do it," I spoke to him, and he scoffed, shaking his head.

"That's crazy," He told me, and my mouth twitched up in a small smile.

"It started about a year ago," I went on, and his eyes widened slightly. "Right after you turned twenty-two. It began with headaches and then you could do little stuff, but then you began to control it,"

"How do you know all this?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"'Cause the same thing happened to us," Sam told him. "Our moms died in a fire, too. We have abilities, too. You see, we're connected, the three of us," Andy put his hands on top of his head and began breathing harder.

"Sam, stop," I ordered, focusing on Andy, who was crouching down now.

"You know what? _Just - just get out of here_," Andy snapped at us.

"Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" Sam demanded, and I turned a glare on him.

"Sam!"

"What?" Andy asked, his eyes widening in horror and confusion. I opened my mouth to explain when Sam hissed, and my eyes snapped to him. His eyes were screwed shut, and he wore a look I knew well.

"Dean," I glanced back at Dean, knowing that I couldn't touch Sam unless I wanted another vision, which I didn't. The last one had hurt pretty badly.

"Why did you tell the doctor to kill himself?" Sam glared at Andy, who looked bewildered and a bit concerned.

"I didn't," Sam staggered, holding his head, and Andy's eyes turned on me. "What's happening to him?" Dean grabbed his brother's arm tightly to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Sam? What is it?" Dean questioned desperately as they both sunk to the ground.

"I didn't do anything to him," Andy told us as I knelt beside Sam, careful not to touch him.

"A woman. A woman burning alive," Sam managed to get out in a strained, pained voice. "A gas station. A woman is gonna kill herself," Sam continued.

"What does he mean 'going to'?" Andy asked.

"Shut up," Dean ordered him, and Andy obeyed without hesitation.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell," Sam glowered at Andy as Dean and I helped him to his feet.

"When?" Dean questioned.

"Doesn't matter. As long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her," Sam reasoned, but I glanced back at Andy unsurely.

"I didn't hurt anybody," He protested.

"I believe him. I still don't think he's our…" I trailed off as I began to hears something, "…Killer," I finished distractedly. "Guys, sirens," A moment later the wailing of ambulance sirens could be heard.

"Go," Sam looked at Dean as he spoke. Dean glanced at me uncertainly, and I couldn't help but smile slightly at his concern.

"Go, I'll be fine," Dean got into the Impala and drove off after the ambulances. Andy made a move towards his van, but Sam stopped him.

"Not you. You're staying here with us," Sam instructed him, and Andy didn't argue.

"How did you know the ambulances were coming? I couldn't hear anything," Andy asked me, and I debated for a brief moment before deciding to trust him. My feelings were never wrong. Why start doubting them now?

"It's like Dean said. I'm a psychic like you, but not really like you. I have… abilities too," We sat in silence for a few minutes before my phone rang. I didn't bother checking the caller ID before answering.

"Hey, babe, it's me. She burned up. Just like Sam said," He informed me.

"Just now?" I hadn't heard anything. With Max, I'd heard the deaths as they were happening. With this, I hadn't heard anything.

"Yeah, minutes before I got here. I mean, the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with Sam's visions? This wasn't even a head start," I sighed dejectedly. Another person we couldn't save.

"I don't know. He can't control them. But we've been with Andy this whole time, and he hasn't made any calls," I told him, glancing at the man sitting behind me.

"It's got to be somebody else," Dean realized.

"Yeah, I think so. Can you ask around, see what else you can find? I'm going to talk to Andy," I turned back to where Sam was glaring distrustingly at Andy, who was looking back confusedly.

"Yeah, be careful. No jumping in front of busses to save doctors," I let out a small laugh at his quip.

"No promises," I heard his chuckle on the other end of the line before it went dead. I shoved the phone back into my pocket and turned to Sam. "She died a few minutes ago. Dean's looking around to see if he can find anything there,"

"You get these premonitions of people about to die?" Andy reiterated, staring at Sam, who just nodded. "And you have super hearing?" My mouth quirked up in a small smile at his choice of words. "That's impossible,"

"You're right," I agreed. "It's almost as impossible as mind control," Andy let out a small laugh of concession.

"Death visions?" Andy asked for the third time.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Dude, that sucks," I laughed at his bluntness. "Super hearing isn't so bad," I shrugged. It could have been a lot worse. "When I got my mind thing, it was like a gift. It was like I won the lotto,"

"But you still live in a van," Sam pointed out. "I don't get it. You could have anything you ever wanted,"

"Yeah, but I-I got everything I need," He chuckled, and I smiled a bit. I was liking him more and more every second.

"So, I guess you aren't the killer," I gave Sam a pointed look to which he responded with his hands up in surrender.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you guys," Andy grinned, and I smiled back.

"That's good. That means there's hope for the three of us," Sam spoke solemnly, and I squeezed his shoulder lightly before standing.

"Dean's back," A moment later there was the rev of the Impala's engine, and Dean pulled in.

"I take it back. Super hearing is pretty cool," I grinned at Andy as Dean got out of the car and came over to us.

"Victim's name was Holly Beckett. Forty-one. Single," I turned to Andy.

"Know her?" I prompted, and he shook his head.

"Never heard of her,"

"I called Ash on the way over here. He came up with a little something. Apparently Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old - back in 1983 - same day you were born, Andy," Dean let the implication hang in the air.

"You were adopted?" I asked him.

"Well, yeah," He spoke nonchalantly as if it were no big deal that he'd had the key to this whole case the whole time and never bothered to share.

"You were? And you neglected to mention that?" Dean spoke in annoyance.

"Never really came up. I mean, I never knew my birth parents, and, like you said, my adopted mom died when I was a baby. Do you think this Holly woman could actually be my-"

"I don't know," Dean answered before Andy was done asking the question. "Tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office,"

"Well, screw that," We all turned to Andy.

* * *

><p>"Probably shouldn't have let you kids in here," The officer told us, sounding confounded by his own decision.<p>

"No. It'll all be fine, all right? Just go get a cup of coffee," Dean set down a cardboard box next to me as the guard started to walk away. "These aren't the droids you're looking for,"

"Awesome," Dean grinned just as I snapped my fingers and pointed to the paper.

"Here it is," Andy sat down next to me and Dean leaned over my shoulder. "Andy, it's true. She's your birth mom,"

"Does anyone have a vicodin?" He asked, causing me to laugh lightly.

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too. I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them," Sam informed us, glancing at Andy.

"Yeah, but I didn't kill them," Andy protested, his voice beginning to get defensive.

"We believe you," Dean assured him, giving Sam a look. "But then who did?" He posed the question that needed to be answered soon otherwise more people would die.

"I think I know," I announced, taking a deep breath. "Holly Beckett had twins,"

"I have an evil twin," Three minutes later, Andy had repeated that phrase seventeen times. Dean, Sam, and I were working to get more information on Andy's twin brother.

"Holly put you both up for adoption. You went to the Gallagher family, but your brother went to a Mr. and Mrs. Weems," I read off the sheet, glancing up at him to see he was a couple shades paler than when we'd first met. "Andy, are you okay?"

"Um… what was my brother's name?" He questioned, looking up at me from his seat on the chair.

"Ansem Weems?" Andy shook his head.

"He's got a local address," Sam added, looking over my shoulder at the file in my hands.

"He lives _here_?" Andy questioned, his eyebrows raising in disbelief.

"Let's get a look at him. Got his picture coming over from the DMV right now," I glanced up at Dean to see him standing by the printer. He took the printed pictures, flipping through them, his eyes widening fractionally in surprise. "Hate to kick you while your freaked," He handed Andy the picture, and Andy stared at it for a moment before raising his head and staring at us in shock. I moved around the chair to get a look at the driver's license. It was the boy from the restaurant.

"We've got to go," I picked up my stuff, and Sam grabbed his bag before we headed out the door as fast as we could. Could he have been the guy that saved me from the bus? Was that possible? He was the right height and build for it.

"All right, Andy," Sam started, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Tell us everything you know about this guy,"

"I mean, I don't know much. Webber shows up one day, like eight months ago, acting like he's my best friend in the world. He's kind of weird, like trying too hard, you know?"

"He must know you're his twin," I reasoned; it was the only logical explanation.

"Why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?" Dean fired questions that Andy had no answer to.

"Sam?" Concern laced my voice as I saw the boy groan and hold his head.

"Sam!" Dean called to him, but it didn't help. Sam kept groaning and clutching his head.

"Dean, pull over," I commanded and was out of the car almost before he'd stopped fully. I yanked the passenger's door open and knelt beside him. "You're okay. You're okay," I reassured him as he looked around, disoriented.

"What'd you see?" Dean asked him from behind me.

"A dam," He answered.

_Ten Minutes Later_

"Stay here," I ordered Andy, barely glancing at him as I got out of the car and walked to the trunk with Sam and Dean. Dean took out his keys and unlocked the trunk, propping the false bottom open with a rifle.

"Dean, you need to stay back," I told him, expecting an argument.

"No argument here," I was a bit surprised that he gave in so easily, but I wasn't about to argue. "I had my head screwed with enough for one day," I took out a silver gun and tucked it in the waistband of my jeans before pulling my jacket over it.

"I'm coming with you," Andy crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Andy, no-" Sam began.

"That's Tracy out there, and I'm coming," He stated, leaving no room for arguments.

"Okay," Both boys looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "He can't be controlled and we need all the back up we can get," I explained before turning back to Andy. "We'll deal with Andy. You get Tracy out, got it?" Andy nodded dutifully, and I nodded back. "Okay," I slammed the trunk closed as Sam and Andy began to head towards the dam.

"Be careful," In answer, I pressed my lips against Dean's.

"I love you," Then I turned and disappeared after Sam and Andy. I prayed to God Dean wouldn't move. I arrived at the car just as Sam bashed in the window and held a gun on Webber.

"Get out of the car! Now!" He demanded, and I cocked my gun as well and held it so it was pointed right between his eyes.

"You _really_ don't want to do this,"I could hear the distortion in his voice, and I punched him in the face.

"Andy!" I snapped, and the man yanked open the passenger's door and helped Tracy. "Don't move!" I ordered Webber as I taped his mouth shut and Sam had him in a deadlock.

"I'll kill him!" Andy yelled, slamming his foot into Webber's gut.

"No! Hey!" I grabbed Andy and hauled him backwards. "Stop! Remember what I said! You have to get Tracy out of here, okay?" There was a grunt, and Sam suddenly slumped onto me, making me stagger under the sudden weight. Tracy drew back to hit me, but Andy stood in front of me, holding out his arm.

"Stop it! I said, _stop it!_" She dropped the tree branch, her eyes shining with tears. I lowered Sam slowly to the ground, cradling his face between my hands.

"Sammy, hey," I checked his pulse, which was strong. He was just knocked out.

"How did you do that?" Andy asked, his voice wavering.

"Practice, bro," Webber replied flippantly. "If you just practiced, you would know," My fingers wrapped around the gun that I had dropped when Sam had fallen on me. "Sometimes…you don't need to use your words. If you have to, all you need is this," He tapped his fingers against his forehead. "Sometimes the headache is worth it,"

"You twisted son of a bitch!" Andy attacked him.

"Stop!" I snapped, standing and aiming the gun directly at Webber.

"You know I saved your life," A chill ran through me. So it was him. "You would kill someone that saved your life?"

"Why?" I asked him, already knowing the answer but needing him to say it. "Why save me?" I asked again, more forcefully.

"Because, you're the one that's supposed to live," He grinned at me. "The yellow-eyed man said so," I swallowed hard at his response. "Now, you're gonna drop the gun, or Tracy is going to go flying," My head snapped to the side to see Tracy on the edge of the dam. I dropped the gun and held up my hands. Webber began talking to Andy, but I heard a snap that made me focus on the Impala.

"Sam," My whisper was barely audible, and he didn't wake up. "Sam," I tried again, shaking his shoulders roughly. He shifted slightly. "Dean's not by the Impala," Sam nodded, already guessing my plan. I slowly backed away from the car and from where Andy was distracting Webber. Once I was out of sight, I stole through the brush as fast as I dared go.

_The man with the yellow eyes_. I heard Webber saying.

_What are you talking about_? Andy sounded scared out of his mind, and I closed my eyes, searching for Dean's footsteps while trying to block out the conversation that was happening. I heard light footsteps to my right, and I slowed my pace through the undergrowth.

_See, he's the one that told me that I have a brother. A twin._ Webber went on spouting craziness. That man was a basic psycho. Not Max._ They ruined our lives, Andy! We could've been together this whole time instead of alone!_ I was almost to him. Just a few more meters._ I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them get away with that. No._ Suddenly, there was a very audible click of a sniper rifle being cocked, and I winced at how loud it was. It may as well have been a cannon fire. I froze as Webber turned his eyes upward to look directly Dean, who was still a good ten yards away.

"I see you," I abandoned precaution and started running. Webber whipped around and swore furiously. "_Bye-bye_,"

"Dean, stop!" I could see him tilting the gun up so the barrel was pressed firmly under his chin. I lunged at him, grabbing the gun and shoving it aside just as twin shots were fired simultaneously.

* * *

><p>"Look at him. He's getting better at it," Sam noted from where he sat, watching Andy charm the cops into letting us go without a statement. Dean was leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around my waist, and my head rested on his shoulder. Dean and I straightened as Andy walked up to us.<p>

"She won't even look at me," He looked at the floor dejectedly.

"Give her time. She's just shaken up," I tried to reassure him, but there was little I could say without lying.

"No, it's - this is different. This is - I never used my mind thing on her before - before last night. She's scared of me now,"

"Andy, I hate to do this, but, um… we have to get out of here," Sam told him apologetically.

"Here," I fished a piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to him. "I wrote down my number," He tried to give a laugh, but it was strained.

"Not a bad way to end all this - pretty girl giving me her number," I attempted a small smile, knowing he was still hurting. I tried to ignore the way Dean's arms tightened around my waist at the joke.

"You're not alone, okay? If anything weird or unnatural comes up, call," We began walking away, leaving him stammering behind us.

"Wh-What am I supposed to do now?" We paused, turning back to look at him.

"You be good, Andy… or we'll be back," Dean finished the sentence as a threat, and I didn't have the energy or the willpower to try to fix it. Maybe it was good Andy was scared. He had just killed his own brother.

"Looks like I was right," Sam spoke, and I glanced to my right at him.

"About what?" Dean questioned from where he was standing to my left with an arm still wrapped around my waist.

"Andy. He's a killer after all," I frowned at Sam's deduction of the event, but I couldn't deny that I had thought about it.

"No he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life," Dean argued.

"Bottom line, last night he wasted somebody," Sam emphasized.

"But he's not a psycho. Everyone could become a killer with the proper motivation - demon blood or not," I disagreed.

"Exactly, he was pushed into that," Dean added.

"Webber was pushed, too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death. You were pushed by your dad's," Sam pointed out, gesturing to me as he spoke the last sentence.

"What's your point, Sam?" Dean snapped, stopping us and facing him.

"Mel's right. Under the right circumstances, everyone is capable of murder - everyone. Maybe that's what the demon is doing - pushing us, finding ways to break us,"

"Look, we don't know what the demon wants, so there's no point in worrying about it now," I worked hard to stifle my true feelings as I spoke those words. What if we were all supposed to turn out like Max Miller and Webber? I would've killed him tonight. To save Dean's life - I would've killed him.

"She's right, Sam. Quit worrying," Dean walked towards the driver's seat.

"You know, I heard you before when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am," Sam used his last card.

"That was mind control. It's like being roofied, man. That doesn't count. No, I'm calling do-over," I let out an amused laugh.

"What are you, seven?" Sam questioned, and I just grinned, getting into the backseat.

"Doesn't matter. Look, we just got to keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it,"

* * *

><p>"So, you, uh, you want to tell me about this hunt of yours," Ellen prompted us, and I glanced down at my beer before looking back up at her.<p>

"Nope. Not really," Dean answered, which earned him a hard look from Ellen. "No offense. Just kind of a family thing,"

"Not anymore," She tossed some papers onto the counter. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burned down on his six-month birthday, just like your house and yours," She looked at me and Sam in turn. "You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

"Yeah, we think so," Sam finally opened up.

"Sam," Dean cautioned, but Sam ignored him.

"Why?" Ellen demanded.

"None of your business," Dean snarked, and I threw him a warning glance.

"Dean-" I began, only to be cut off by Ellen.

"You mind your tongue with me, boy," Harshness lined her voice. "This isn't just your war. This is war. Something big and bad is coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. now, at best all we got is us - together. No secrets or half truths here,"

"There are people, like Andy Gallagher and Sam and me who have… abilities," I glanced down at my hands as I spoke.

"Abilities?" Ellen echoed uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah," I could feel Dean's muscles tense beside me as if he was ready for a fight. "Psychic abilities. Andy had mind control," I took a deep breath, glancing at Sam before continuing. "I can hear things… things that normal people can't hear,"

"What kind of things?" Ellen prompted.

"Things like Ash watching Saturday Night Live in his room. Things like Jo getting the beer out back. Max, sleeping in his room. Sam gets… premonitions, visions. It's different for each person,"

"The demon said he had plans for people like us," Sam added.

"What kind of plans?" Ellen asked, her eyes flicking between us uncertainly.

"We don't really know for sure," Sam told her honestly.

"These people out there, these psychics, are they dangerous?"

"No," Dean answered gruffly. "Not all of them,"

"But some can be. Very dangerous," I disagreed, needing to warn them.

"Okay, how many?" She interrogated us.

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six-month birthday," Dean informed her.

"That's not true," Sam muttered, glancing down at his hands.

"What?" Dean asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"He's right. Webber didn't. I had his files. I checked. No house fires anywhere on his record,"

"Which breaks pattern," Ellen summed up. "So if there's any others like him, there would be nothing in the system, no way to track them all down,"

"And so who knows how many of them are really out there?" Dean realized.

"Jo, honey?" Ellen called back to her daughter.

"Yeah?" The blonde replied.

"You better break out the whiskey instead," I felt Dean's hand slip into mine, and I tightened my hand around it. We were so screwed.


End file.
